"Ouch! Hey, easy there! My clothes are snagged!" The voice from behind the bush squealed, clearly in distress.
Leon rolled his eyes but didn't bother with a response. Instead, he gripped the man's ankles firmly, braced himself against the garden path's cobblestone floor, and gave a powerful pull.
With a loud 'swish', the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric echoed through the garden. Leon stumbled back a few steps as the resistance suddenly gave way, and the brightly dressed man tumbled out from the bushes, collapsing in a heap on the grass. A flamboyant feathered hat skittered to the side, and the man sat up, blinking in dazed embarrassment, his once-colorful coat now reduced to tatters.
Letting go of the man's ankles, Leon tilted his head, taking in the familiar sight. It took only one look at that unmistakable mustache to jog his memory.
"Goliad?" Leon's surprise was evident. "What are you doing here?"
The man squinted at him, recognition dawning slowly. "Ah, the gallant knight of… uh… hang on…" He scratched his head, visibly struggling to recall the name. "Ah, yes! What was it… Sir… uh…"
Leon sighed, exasperated. "Didn't you promise to immortalize us in verse? And now you can't even remember my name?"
Goliad's face lit up in faux realization. "Ah! Of course, Sir Pandar… Pandora?"
Leon shook his head, stifling a laugh. "It's Pendragon."
"Pendragon! Right, right — Lord Pendragon!" Goliad scrambled to his feet, hastily dusting the grass from his legs. He straightened his now-damaged coat, popped the feathered hat back on his head, and flashed a broad, sheepish grin. "What a happy twist of fate, running into you here! Tell me, were you invited to the wedding as well?"
Leon raised an eyebrow. 'Invited?' The notion of Goliad, a notorious, slightly sleazy poet, receiving an invitation to a noble wedding struck him as… bizarre. What noble family would willingly invite this character to a prestigious event?
"Wait… someone actually invited you?" Leon asked incredulously, sensing something amiss. "The Fercon family invited 'you' to their son's wedding?"
Goliad's grin didn't falter, but Leon noted a slight twitch. "Oh, you know how it is," Goliad replied breezily. "I'm just… appreciated in certain circles."
Leon wasn't buying it. Still, he decided not to press that point just yet. He wasn't exactly a proper guest himself, and any conversation about formal invitations might get tricky.
"So, the last I heard, you were locked up in Dragon Throat's prison. What happened? Did they clear the charges?" Leon probed.
Goliad's face shifted into a look of mock offense, his chin raised in exaggerated pride. "Why, naturally! I am a man of integrity! However, misunderstandings do occur, rumors spread, and unfortunately, people don't always see the truth about me."
Leon snorted. "Uh-huh. And this 'man of integrity' was sneaking around, headfirst in a bush? Come on, Goliad, we both know you weren't looking for a bathroom back there. You're no thief, but if you don't tell me what you're up to, I may just have to alert the guards."
At that, Goliad's affected dignity shattered. He winced, then shot Leon a pleading look. "Alright, alright! Look, I wasn't 'exactly' invited, per se…"
Leon crossed his arms, waiting, as Goliad shifted nervously under his gaze.
"Fine!" Goliad sighed, throwing up his hands. "I may have… ah… helped myself to a bit of 'social entry.' A little artful improvisation. I was just… sampling the noble lifestyle, you know? Blending in. And when I saw an opportunity to explore these lovely gardens, I thought I'd… get a closer look."
Leon smirked. "A closer look? Is that what you're calling it now?"
Goliad chuckled nervously, shrugging. "Curiosity has always been my downfall, Sir Pendragon. You know that."
Leon eyed him suspiciously, trying to gauge if there was more to the story. "Right. Well, I'll let you off this time. But if I catch you sneaking around again, it won't be me you'll be dealing with. The Fercon guards aren't exactly known for their hospitality."
Goliad gulped, offering a hasty nod. "Duly noted, my lord! And, ah, thank you for the rescue. That hedge was far more stubborn than I anticipated."
As they began walking back toward the crowded courtyard, Goliad glanced sidelong at Leon, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "So, if I may ask, what brings you here? A wedding banquet doesn't seem like your usual fare. Surely you aren't here to exchange pleasantries with the nobility?"
Leon smirked, glancing ahead, his eyes taking on a resolute gleam. "Let's just say I have some business to attend to. And don't worry, I won't be lingering at the banquet tables."
Goliad chuckled knowingly. "Ah, Sir Pendragon, always the man of action. Well, should you need a quick rhyme or a clever distraction, you know where to find me."
With that, the two men moved back toward the castle grounds, each with his own secrets, yet strangely comforted by the unexpected reunion.
Goliad squirmed uncomfortably, clearly scrambling for an excuse as his eyes darted around to check if they were alone. He leaned in close to Leon, covering his mouth with a conspiratorial hand, and his voice dropped to a lewd whisper. "Alright, let's strike a deal. If you keep quiet about this little... misstep of mine, I'll share with you a secret passage to happiness."
Leon recoiled, a look of disgust wrinkling his brow as he put some distance between himself and Goliad's grin. "Let me guess — you mean that hole in the wall behind the bushes over there? I didn't need you to tell me, considering how you nearly got yourself wedged in it. But what's this nonsense about 'happiness'?"
Goliad's eyes twinkled as he dropped his voice, leaning in with a theatrical air. "Ah, my dear Pendragon, you're unaware of the hidden delights within this dazzling fortress." He chuckled darkly. "Behind these pristine walls lie many a lonely, unfulfilled canary." His voice was practically a purr now. "And if no kind soul were to console these poor, neglected beauties... well, wouldn't that be a tragedy?"
Leon's expression was unamused, but Goliad continued, undeterred. "Not just anywhere in the castle either. In that very courtyard of the black-cloaked ambassador, I've encountered many enchanting beauties these past few days. Oh, the elegance, the allure..."
Leon's interest sharpened, but not for the reasons Goliad imagined. He gripped Goliad's shoulders firmly, his voice a tense whisper. "You can get into that front courtyard?"
Goliad blinked, misreading Leon's excitement entirely. A sly grin spread across his face as he patted Leon on the shoulder. "Ah, so we're kindred spirits, are we? I knew it! Follow me then, my friend." With a mischievous wink, he led Leon to the very bush he'd been caught in moments before. Goliad knelt and carefully pushed the branches aside, revealing a narrow crack in the castle wall — just wide enough for a slim, determined person to squeeze through.
Leon crouched beside him, inspecting the opening. Through the dense wall, he could make out a view beyond, one that seemed to lead toward the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea. The entrance was subtle, hidden by the overgrown bushes, and barely large enough for a single person to crawl through. "This goes straight through the wall?" Leon asked, peeking inside with a mix of curiosity and caution.
Goliad nodded, a smug gleam in his eye. "That's right, my friend. This little crack leads to a hidden plank road clinging to the cliffside. It's narrow, but it can carry one man if he's careful."
"A plank road?" Leon echoed, incredulous.
Goliad beamed with pride. "A secret escape route, built in case the castle ever falls under siege. Most castles have them, you know. But the best part? This particular route has a small, concealed door, locked from the inside and probably untouched since it was first built. It leads directly under the castle's foundation."
Leon eyed him, a mixture of admiration and suspicion crossing his face. "You've clearly put a lot of thought into this. How many times have you sneaked in and out of noble castles, exactly?"
Goliad smirked, unfazed by Leon's sarcasm. "One acquires experience in certain... circles." He tipped his hat with a flourish, leaning close. "But enough chatter. I have a rendezvous with the lovely Miss Margarina today, so I'll leave you to it, sir." Without further ado, Goliad adjusted his hat, bent down, and prepared to squeeze through the wall.
This time, he positioned himself more carefully, extending his arms forward and wriggling with expert precision. Leon watched as he slowly vanished into the crevice, his colorful attire disappearing bit by bit until, at last, he was fully through. No sound of tumbling off a cliff followed, only the faint rustling of his footsteps fading into the distance.
Leon smirked, shaking his head as he watched the poet slip out of sight. He might be sly, even reckless, but Goliad had unknowingly given him exactly what he needed — a hidden path into the Atias courtyard.
Leon took a steadying breath and leaned forward, tentatively pushing his shoulders and chest into the narrow crack. His lean, youthful frame slid through with ease, much more agile than Goliad's. With his head poking out on the other side, Leon took in the view below — a narrow, rickety plank road clinging to the cliffside, just wide enough for a single person to inch along. The sea crashed against jagged rocks far below, sending up bursts of mist. Although he wasn't usually rattled by heights, the precarious drop made him grip the stone edge a little tighter.
Turning to his left, he caught sight of Goliad a few steps ahead, confidently striding along the narrow plank, his feathered hat now tilted jauntily to shield his eyes from the spray. Goliad seemed utterly unfazed, his gaze fixed ahead, likely daydreaming about his so-called "tryst" with Miss Margarina.
'Miss Margarina,' Leon thought, narrowing his eyes. The name tugged at his memory — he'd overheard it recently, more than once in fact, though he couldn't recall where. After a moment's thought, he shrugged it off. 'No matter,' he decided. 'I've got my own mission to think about.'
With that, he carefully eased himself out through the gap. Holding onto the stone wall with one hand, he shifted his weight onto the narrow plank road. The worn wooden boards creaked under his weight, each groan of the wood reminding him of the deadly drop below. 'Focus,' he told himself, brushing off the chill crawling up his spine.
"Hey!" Leon called after Goliad, who was still within earshot. "You haven't told me how to get into the yard of those black-robed men!"
Goliad glanced back, an amused twinkle in his eye, and lifted his hand to point upward. Leon followed his gesture, squinting up at the outer wall. The stone was weathered from years of wind and sun, worn down to reveal uneven gaps and crevices between the bricks.
Leon frowned, but understanding dawned on him quickly. 'Climbing. Of course.' He'd have to scale the wall like an acrobat, using the eroded stones for handholds.
Goliad gave him a cocky smirk, then tipped his hat in farewell, strutting away along the plank road. Watching the poet's carefree exit, Leon felt a flash of determination. 'If that charlatan can do it without a second thought, there's no way I'm backing down.'
He inched closer to the base of the wall, examining the worn stones. Goliad had already managed this feat, so Leon figured it couldn't be impossible. He took a calming breath, letting go of any thought of the cliffs and deadly rocks below. His hands tightened on the stones as he found his first hold, feeling a surge of confidence. 'It's not like I haven't tackled a rock climbing wall before, just a bit higher stakes this time.'
As he began his ascent, Leon quickly discovered that the climb was easier than expected. His young body felt unexpectedly strong, nimble and responsive, a pleasant surprise compared to his heavier build in his past life. Each brick, weathered by years of salt and rain, provided deep, solid handholds and footholds.
Moving up the wall, Leon settled into a rhythm, focused and calm. The rough stone scratched against his skin, but his grip held firm, and he made steady progress. The thrill of the climb coursed through him, blending with the sense of purpose that had led him here. Whatever awaited him beyond this wall, he was ready for it.
The plank road was suspended halfway up the castle wall, which made Leon's final reach for the battlements almost effortless. As his fingers found the cool stone edge, he silently thanked his luck that this part of the wall, facing the sea, was free from any guard towers or watch posts. A few extra obstacles would have made the climb nearly impossible — a feat only a seasoned assassin could attempt.
He cautiously pulled himself up, taking a moment to scan his surroundings. There were no guards in sight — neither the usual Kantadar sentries nor the black-armored Atias soldiers. Perhaps it was the distraction of the wedding, or maybe this area was considered so secure that patrols had been deemed unnecessary. Either way, the eerie stillness worked in his favor.
Clinging to the edge, Leon swung his legs over and carefully lowered himself to a crouch behind the battlement. He took a breath, heart racing, then crept forward, staying low as he peered over the wall into the embassy courtyard below.
The view was as lavish as he'd heard — elegant flower beds and statues laid out with precision, winding paths lined with intricate topiaries. It was more of a private sanctuary than a guarded fortress. Just as he started to take it all in, a sudden voice broke the silence from below.
"Master Goliad? Is that you?"
Leon's heart skipped a beat, and he ducked instinctively. 'Damn,' he cursed inwardly. He hadn't anticipated someone lurking in the courtyard below, tucked into the blind spot of his view. 'So much for being an assassin.' He hadn't even made it into the courtyard and was already in danger of being spotted.
But then he paused, realizing something odd. The woman had called out 'Goliad's' name. A wave of relief washed over him. 'So, she must be one of the poet's… acquaintances.' That worked to his advantage. If she was familiar with Goliad, there was little chance she'd raise an alarm.
Taking a breath to steady himself, Leon carefully peeked over the battlement, trying to get a look at the woman who'd spoken. He spotted her almost immediately. She stood just below, with chestnut-brown hair tied in a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, and striking blue eyes — slightly bluer than Liam's. A small, teardrop-shaped mole marked the corner of her eye, a detail that instantly jogged his memory.
'No way… Elena?' Leon's heart raced in recognition. What were the odds of finding her here, of all places? The last time he'd seen her was over two months ago, her face weary and bruised from captivity. But now, though her dress was modest, it was well-kept, and she looked healthier, her spirit no longer crushed by the harsh treatment of the slave cell.
Noticing the stranger peering over the wall, Elena's face creased with confusion. "Hey? Who are you?" She tilted her head, squinting as if trying to place him. "You're not Goliad…"
Leon offered a faint smile, not surprised by her lack of recognition. The last time they'd crossed paths, his face had been bruised and bloodied, a dirty mess of scars from his time in captivity. This cleaned-up version of himself must look like a completely different person.
"It's me, Elena," he said softly, careful not to raise his voice. He doubted she'd remember his voice after all this time, but something in his expression seemed to strike a chord.
Leon realized that the two of them hadn't even exchanged a single word back when they were both captives. If Brandon were here, he thought, she would likely recognize him as the fair-skinned, noble-born son more easily.
"Miss, I'm Liam's friend!" Leon whispered urgently, keeping his voice low. "I'm here to get you out of here."
Elena's initial confusion morphed into wide-eyed disbelief at the mention of her brother's name. She covered her mouth, shoulders trembling, her eyes filling with tears of surprise and relief. "Liam? My brother… he's alive?" she whispered, voice choked with emotion. "You're really his friend? Is he… is he safe?"
Leon nodded firmly. "Yes, he's safe. Liam is doing fine, but we don't have time to talk about that right now." He glanced around nervously, feeling the urgency of the moment rising. Finding her was a stroke of luck, but now the priority was getting her out of this dangerous place. "Miss Elena, look around for something you can stand on, a ladder or anything that'll help you reach. I'll pull you up, and we'll get out of here!"
The words seemed to break through Elena's shock, and she took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. Her brother was alive — her only family was safe and well. The weight of that knowledge filled her with warmth, and she swallowed back her tears, managing a smile for this young man who'd risked everything to bring her this news.
"Thank you," she said softly, her gratitude profound. "Thank you for coming all this way… but I can't leave." Her voice softened with regret as she noticed Leon's stunned expression. She forced herself to stand a bit straighter, trying to summon strength. "Please, go back safely and tell Liam I'm… well taken care of here. No one hurts me, and I have warm clothes, plenty of food… truly."
Leon's eyebrows knitted together in frustration and confusion. "Wait, hold on, what do you mean you can't leave?" His mind raced, puzzling over the contradiction. Elena was dressed in fine clothing, clearly given a life of comfort here at the Atiyas embassy, but he couldn't believe she was the type to abandon her family willingly. Something wasn't adding up.
"Tell me, what's keeping you here?" he pressed, his voice firm. "Is someone threatening you? What's going on?"
Elena's expression shifted, and a shadow of sadness and resolve crossed her face. She hesitated, then slowly lifted her chin, baring her neck for him to see. Leon's eyes widened as he caught sight of it: a thin, intricate ring of crimson patterns, encircling her neck like a tattoo, a binding mark woven into her skin.
The design was elegant yet sinister, as if it pulsed with a life of its own — a collar that sat flush against her skin, marking her not just as a captive, but as someone bound by magic.