My wandering eventually led me to the heart of Kirel's bustling marketplace, a stark contrast to the quiet, tense halls of the magistrate's mansion. The moment I stepped into the market square, I was overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the place. Stalls lined every available space, their colorful canopies flapping in the gentle morning breeze. The air was thick with the scents of freshly baked bread, spiced meats, and the faint tang of citrus from fruit vendors calling out their wares.
The chatter of the crowd filled the air—a mix of laughter, bartering, and the occasional shout of a merchant advertising their goods. People from all walks of life moved through the maze of stalls: noblewomen in elegant cloaks inspecting fine jewelry, laborers carrying heavy sacks of grain, children darting through the crowd with sticky fingers from stolen sweets, and travelers adorned in mismatched armor haggling over provisions for their journeys.
A spice merchant waved a small pouch in front of a hesitant buyer, promising it would "add fire to your stew and warmth to your bones." Across the way, a blacksmith demonstrated the sharpness of his blades by slicing through bundles of straw with ease. The rhythmic clanging of his hammer added a steady beat to the market's symphony of noise.
There was an odd tension beneath the lively surface, though. My ears caught snippets of hushed conversations as I walked past groups of people.
"Did you hear it last night? The explosions?"
"Aye, woke me up. The whole house shook."
"Must have been an attack. But on who? And why here?"
"Maybe it's got to do with the magistrate... or the king?"
Most spoke in whispers, casting wary glances over their shoulders, as though afraid of being overheard. Others dismissed the events of the night as nothing more than bandits or a skirmish between rival mercenary groups.
I passed a stall selling vibrant bolts of fabric, their colors so rich they almost seemed to glow in the morning light. The vendor was locked in an argument with a haggard-looking woman about the price of a shawl.
Nearby, a group of street performers had gathered a small crowd. One man juggled flaming torches while another played a lively tune on a stringed instrument I couldn't name. Children cheered, their faces lit with excitement, momentarily distracted from the unease that hung over the city.
The deeper I wandered into the market, the more I noticed just how diverse Kirel was. Merchants from distant lands displayed exotic wares: strange fruits with spiked skins, delicate glass trinkets that shimmered like rainbows, and weapons with ornate carvings that hinted at foreign craftsmanship. It was clear that Kirel's market was a hub of trade and culture, a melting pot of people and goods from across the continent.
Despite the vibrant chaos, my thoughts kept returning to the whispers about the attack. The city seemed to hum with an undercurrent of fear, and I couldn't help but feel like I was walking through a powder keg waiting to ignite.
I stopped at a stall selling roasted skewers of meat and vegetables, the smell making my stomach growl. The vendor, a stout man with a salt-and-pepper beard, smiled warmly as he handed me one.
"Rough night, eh?" he said, his eyes sharp despite his friendly demeanor. "Heard some strange noises myself. You new in town?"
I nodded vaguely, not wanting to reveal too much. "Just passing through."
He chuckled. "Well, welcome to Kirel. Things've been strange lately, but the market's always lively. Enjoy the skewer, lad."
I thanked him and moved on, chewing thoughtfully.
**
Leaning against the shade of a sturdy oak tree, I tore into the food I'd bought earlier from a market stall. The roasted meat was perfectly seasoned, the bread fresh and warm. It was a simple meal, but after the chaos of the last few days, it felt like a feast.
As I ate, I couldn't help but think about how different the bustling city of Kirel was compared to my quiet village. Back home, the days moved at a slow and predictable pace. People woke with the sun, worked the fields or tended to their Woolhorns, and ended their evenings with simple meals and stories around a fire. Market days were the only real change, and even then, they were modest—just a few stalls and familiar faces.
Kirel, on the other hand, was alive in a way I'd never experienced before. The market was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds: merchants shouting to advertise their wares, children laughing and running between the stalls, and the constant hum of bartering and chatter. The air smelled of spices, roasted meats, and freshly baked bread, mingling with less pleasant scents from the nearby stables and refuse. It was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.
I fished the sun disc from my pocket, its faint glow along the edges telling me the time. Nearly the ninth hour—breakfast at the magistrate's mansion would have started by now. Guilt pricked at me as I realized how late it had gotten. If Elara woke up and found me gone... well, I didn't want to imagine her reaction.
I stuffed the rest of my meal into my mouth and sprinted back to the mansion, dodging through the morning crowd. By the time I reached Elara's room, I was out of breath. The sound of shouting and muffled thuds greeted me before I even touched the door.
"Elara," I muttered under my breath, already wincing at what I knew was a tantrum in full swing.
The noise was chaotic—angry shouts and what sounded like objects hitting the walls. "Where is he?!" I heard her yell, her voice shaky with frustration and distress. A softer voice—likely a maid or knight—was trying to soothe her, but it was clear they weren't succeeding.
I opened the door, and the golden-armored knight stationed inside turned to me with a look of pure relief. "Your Highness, Sir Caelan has returned," he said eagerly. "I'll take my leave." He bowed quickly and exited with all the urgency of someone fleeing a battlefield.
I stepped into the room and surveyed the damage. Cushions were scattered across the floor, one of them torn open with feathers spilling out. A small table was overturned, and there was a dent in the wall where something heavy had clearly been thrown. In the middle of it all sat Elara, her arms crossed and her cheeks red with frustration. Her eyes were puffy, betraying the tears she'd been crying just moments before.
My eyebrow twitched, but I forced myself to approach gently. "Elara," I said softly, "what's going on here?"
She looked up at me, her lips trembling slightly. "You left," she said quietly. "I woke up, and you weren't there."
I sighed, sitting beside her on the floor and patting her head lightly. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice filled with genuine regret. "I just needed some fresh air. I didn't think you'd wake up so soon."
Without a word, she leaned against me, wrapping her arms around my waist and hugging me tightly. She sniffled, and her small frame trembled slightly. It was like holding a fragile bird, and my heart ached with guilt for leaving her.
"Why didn't you wake me up and take me with you?" she mumbled into my chest. "You said you wouldn't leave me. You promised."
"I didn't leave for good," I said softly, trying to reassure her. "I was just out for a little while."
She snorted softly, but her grip on me didn't loosen. Her fingers clutched tightly at my shirt as if afraid I'd disappear again.
"Take me with you next time," she murmured. "I want to see the city. Last time we came to Kirel... we only passed through. And last time, my mu—" Her voice broke, and she let out a quiet sob, unable to finish the sentence.
"Elara..." I began, but she looked up at me, her wide blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. There was so much pain in her gaze, so much vulnerability. It was as if she were silently begging me to make the world safe for her again, to give her back the comfort and stability she had lost.
"Caelan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be here later."
Realization hit me like a blow. She must have found out about her mother's body being brought back to the mansion today. The thought of seeing her mother like that, of being so close to such devastating grief, must have been too much for her to bear.
I nodded slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Okay," I said gently. "After we eat, we'll go somewhere else. Somewhere fun."
Her lips trembled, but she nodded. "Where did you go today?" she asked, her tone a little lighter, though her grip on me didn't ease.
I smiled, hoping to lift her spirits. "I went to the marketplace," I said. "It was lively, noisy, and colorful. There were stalls selling spices, jewelry, and toys. There was even a man juggling flaming torches! It smelled amazing, like fresh bread and roasted meat."
Her eyes widened slightly, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
"After breakfast, we'll go together," I said. "I'll show you everything."
**
The magistrate kindly advised me after breakfast, when I told him about my plan to take the princess to the market, that it wouldn't be safe. He explained that not only could it pose a security risk, but the princess might also be recognized, causing unnecessary chaos in the city. He then suggested an alternative—a hidden river spot near Kirel, a serene place away from prying eyes. He arranged for a discreet carriage to take us there, one that outwardly appeared unremarkable but still carried the luxury of noble transportation within.
The princess was visibly delighted when she heard we were going out, her eyes lighting up in a way I hadn't seen in days. She eagerly climbed into the carriage, chattering softly about how happy she was to leave the confines of the mansion, even if just for a while. It was a welcome distraction for both of us. I could see the weight on her shoulders lessen, though it still lingered in her eyes whenever she thought I wasn't looking.
Back at the mansion, the king had seemed distracted, his usual commanding presence diminished. His face, though still composed, betrayed his exhaustion. He fidgeted absentmindedly during breakfast, his gaze distant. I can only imagine what it must feel like to face the thought of seeing his wife's lifeless body—someone he loved and shared a life with. That grief must be unbearable.
Before we left, the king had pulled me aside, flanked by his advisors, to ask me what happened in the forest. His voice was steady but tinged with raw emotion as he urged me to recount every detail of the attack. I told them everything I could remember—the ambush, the attackers, and how I had found the princess. The king's expression grew darker with every word. By the end, his face looked carved from stone, his shoulders heavy with the burden of loss and responsibility.
He looked... small. Smaller than I had ever imagined a king could look. The overwhelming, larger-than-life presence he'd carried even during the attack seemed to have shrunk under the weight of his grief. I had never thought such a powerful man could seem so human, so vulnerable.
I shook my head, mentally banishing the memory of that morning. There was no sense dwelling on it now. Instead, I focused on where we were headed—Silverbrook Retreat.
After some time, the carriage finally came to a halt. I stepped out first, my resonance skill flaring as I scanned the area for any signs of danger. The forested spot was tranquil, the soft gurgle of water reaching my ears, accompanied by the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. No threats. Just nature.
I turned back to the carriage and offered my hand to Elara. She took it without hesitation, a small, eager smile playing on her lips as I helped her step down.
For the first time in days, I saw a flicker of peace in her eyes. And I silently vowed to do everything I could to make sure it stayed there, even if just for a little while.