Taren's muscles screamed as he thrust the cell's rusted door open, taking a step out into the dampness of the cold morning. The earth squelched in his boots, its damp chill spreading into his bones.
Before him lay the endless fields and nothing else: no trees, no shelter. It was just wind and grass whispering across it—prison.
The stench of freshly cut grass mixed with the acrid sweat clinging to his skin and the gnawing ache of hunger in his gut. The Royals never fed them properly; scraps were all they got. The rest went to the courts, the pampered few who didn't even notice them.
He wiped sweat off his forehead, allowing the sun to scorch his skin. Osric walked more strides ahead of him, boots slashing through wet grass.
"Another day, another bloody field," Osric said to Taren with a half smile that did not seem to quite find its way to his eyes. "At least the grass doesn't talk back."
Taren snorted. The humour did not linger. "We are cattle, Osric. That is all.
Osric didn't answer. They both knew it was true.
Taren looked out over the horizon. Far in the distance, something was shimmering in the air, a ripple. He squinted, and it vanished. The barrier. The one that kept them trapped here, invisible but always there. Not from Aurelia's side, though. Taren often wondered who or what kept them locked in this desolate wasteland.
A voice sliced through the air, dripping with scorn. "You are late."
Taren froze, head jerking toward the sound. A figure stood just beyond the edge of the field, cloaked in the hazy morning light. The voice was condescending, as if the boy stood high above them.
"You will be punished. Move and mount the horse."
Taren's fists clenched, teeth gritted as temper flared. "Who the hell does this whelp think he is?" he growled, sweeping his eyes over the field, but the figure had vanished.
Osric turned his face away, readjusting tattered clothing. "King's pup. They're always sending these little brats to make us forget ourselves."
Taren dabbed his face with his hand. "Smells like a perfumery from here."
"He probably bathes in it," Osric muttered, shrugging. "Doesn't matter. He'll be gone before we can blink."
Taren's anger flared again. "Why do they always act like that? Like we're nothing?"
Osric sighed, looking at him. "I know, Taren. We all want to break free. But right now, we've got a horse to ride and a prince to answer to. Save it for later."
Taren shot him a look, but the frustration in Osric's eyes matched his own. Neither of them had a choice—not yet.
They moved toward the horse, the wet grass muffling their footsteps. Walls stretched out around them-a reminder of how small they were in that world. Taren mounted, his gaze flicking to the distant horizon to the kingdom that held all the keys.
"One day, Osric," Taren muttered, more to himself than to his partner. "I'll make them pay for this."
Osric gave a grim smile, one corner of his mouth twitching. "I'll be holding you to that."
As they rode toward the gates of the Aurelia Kingdom, the weight of the place pressed on them. The horse's hooves thudded against the packed dirt, the air thick with the invisible gaze of a thousand hidden eyes.
Finally, Osric broke the tension with a dry chuckle. "Been a while since the prince's summons, huh? What do you think he wants now?"
Taren said nothing. His jaw clenched in reaction as the gates seemed to open larger, iron spikes biting into the sky. They were getting close to the heart of the kingdom, where the real power lay.
A knight of glittering armor emerged from the shadow. He moved slowly, a mass of chains dragging over his feet. The rust of his links clinked ominously on every step. Iron collars hung from the mass, cruel and heavy to hold them in place-as if daring them to escape from him.
The knight presented himself before them in rigid posture, holding high his chains, the threats.
Osric snorted. "Guess he wants us to look the part," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
Taren's grip on the reins tightened, knuckles white as his gaze locked onto the knight. "Does he think those'll make us bend easier?" he muttered under his breath, the bile rising in his throat.
***
(After hours and hours, in the evening)
Taren and Osric were assigned to accompany Princess Aeliana as her guards at Shinkai Academy in Hazan Nation. However, they were still confused about why the King had chosen them for this important task. Why did he trust them? The answers to these questions remained elusive, but there were hints of a deeper reason behind the King's decision..
Taren pulled himself up onto the saddle, which groaned in protest under his weight. It was years since he had been near a horse, much less ridden one. The beast shifted beneath him, feeling his reluctance, but he clenched down on the reins, fixed on not letting the beast sense his anxiety.
Osric sat upon his horse with slightly more ease, though the smirk which usually attended the action was absent. His shoulders were tense, his hands gripping the reins far tighter than necessary.
The knight stepped back, watching them lead their horses toward the carriage. "Remember what I told you," he called after them, his voice firm. "Don't mess this up."
Taren rode to the right-hand side of the carriage, positioning himself just close enough to keep watch without crowding it. Osric took up left, his horse falling into step as the procession began to move. The sound of hooves on the dirt path echoed in the air, mingling with the faint creak of the carriage's wheels.
The rhythmic"Thud! thud! thud!" of the horses' hooves filled the air, blending with the distant rustle of the trees and the occasional creak of the carriage wheels. Taren's mind was a storm of questions, each one louder than the last. 'Why us? Why trust slaves with the princess's life? It didn't add up.' The prince's words still echoed in his head, laced with an unease that refused to settle.
A sudden gust of wind swept through, rustling the grass on either side of the path and sending a cool chill up Taren's spine. The carriage creaked, and he'd just heard in silence something-new-to-him-a soft sound, a faint rustle.
---
Hours passed as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and gold. The steady rhythm of hooves and the occasional rustle of trees in the wind filled the air, but Taren's thoughts strayed, only to be pulled back again. Princess Aeliana. Her face lingered in his mind, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. She was untouchable—royalty. To think of her any other way was dangerous, foolish.
Osric rode beside him, unperturbed by the tension. As the procession slowed to a halt, a knight raised his hand. "We will camp here for the night."
The knights set up camp in a quiet clearing surrounded by trees. Taren slid down from his horse, his legs stiff from hours in the saddle. He stretched briefly before reaching for a bundle of wood from one of the wagons, silently following the orders of the older knight with the scarred face.
The fire was soon lit, throwing long shadows into the gathering darkness. Taren moved silently, intent on his task and unwilling to look anywhere unless necessary. He saw the carriage in the distance, curtains drawn tight; he shrugged off the curiosity that nagged at him.
Osric dropped to the ground beside the fire, groaning as he stretched. "Finally," he muttered, "I thought they'd make us build the whole damn camp."
Taren sat back against a sapling, gazing into the flames as he tried to clear his head. The knights spoke among themselves, their voices low, mingling with the crackling fire. The moment was peaceful, but Taren felt the weight of something more looming in the air.
Then, a soft creak broke the stillness.
Princess Aeliana came out of the carriage, walking into the firelight. It only touched her softly, yet she stood out as if a figure from a dream—a figure of silver-white hair caught in faint light, and purple eyes that glittered in the dark. She walked quietly, her gaze scanning the camp, momentarily resting upon the knights before flicking over to the fire at which Taren and Osric sat.
Taren's breath caught in his chest, but he forced himself to look away. His heart pounded in his chest, and he focused on the fire, willing his thoughts to calm. He felt her presence acutely, as if the world had shifted in the space between them.
She stood at the edge of the camp, her eyes darting from knight to knight, but she said nothing. The air around them became heavy, expectant, as if the fire itself had been drawn into the silence.
Then, the stillness was broken.
A rustling came from the bushes, soft but ominous, followed by the sharp whistle of an arrow. It struck Osric with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling backward.
"Osric!" Taren yelled, running forward, but another arrow shot past him, grazing his shoulder.
Panic erupted in the camp. The knights scrambled to their feet, reaching for weapons, but Taren's instincts took over. He didn't think; he just moved.
His eyes shot over to the princess. She stood, stunned, her wide purple eyes wheeling in panic. Taren ran toward her, snatching at her wrist. "Into the carriage, now!" he barked roughly.
She didn't try to stop him. Her look was full of shock, but she let him tug her toward the carriage safety. The door thumped shut behind her with heavy slams.
Taren turned to see Osric, stumbling as he fought to stand. Blood soaked his shirt, his face pale, but he was still moving toward the battle. "Hold on!" Taren shouted, rushing toward him.