The tavern was alive with laughter and the clinking of mugs. Kieran sat at a table with Garven, Barrick, and Loris, the four of them sharing tales of past battles. Kieran's deep laugh rumbled through the room as Garven finished a particularly ridiculous story.
One of the Protectors' men approached the table and bowed slightly. "Kieran, Calvin requests your presence in the castle library."
Kieran sighed, placing his mug down. "This late at night? Can't the man let me enjoy a drink?" He pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping against the floor. "Alright, boys, I'll see you later."
Garven smirked. "Don't let him rope you into anything too crazy."
Kieran chuckled. "When has he ever done that?" He followed the man out of the tavern, weaving through the dimly lit streets until they reached the towering castle.
The walk through the castle's grand halls was silent, the faint echoes of their footsteps the only sound. When they reached the library door, the man stopped and motioned for Kieran to continue alone.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Kieran stepped inside. The library was vast, its shelves stretching high toward the vaulted ceiling, and the scent of aged parchment filled the air. Calvin was seated at a table near the center, a thick book open in front of him.
"Ah, Kieran, my favorite orc," Calvin said without looking up.
Kieran crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Uh-huh. What do you want, Calvin? And what's that ring?"
Calvin glanced down at his hand, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Oh, this? It was my mother's. I wear it when I think about her. Sentimental, I suppose." He waved dismissively, his tone casual but calculated. "But that's not why you're here."
Kieran straightened. "Then get to the point."
Calvin closed the book and leaned back in his chair. "Remember when you said that if I ever needed someone… eliminated, you'd do it without question?"
Kieran nodded. "Yeah. Who is it?"
"Kenelm Wembleye," Calvin replied, his voice steady. "The leader of Dragon's Roar. They've been a thorn in the Protectors' side for too long. It's time we removed that thorn."
Kieran nodded again, his tone casual. "Alright. Where is he?"
"In the princess's chambers," Calvin said, his gaze unwavering.
Kieran blinked, his brow furrowing. "The princess's room? That's… bold."
Calvin smirked. "I trust you can handle it. You're nothing if not resourceful."
Kieran turned toward the door but paused. "Wait. Where's my armor and sword?"
Calvin gestured to a corner of the room, where Kieran's armor and weapon rested on a stand, meticulously prepared.
Kieran approached, running a hand along the intricate designs of the armor and the imposing greatsword. "This better not be one of your games, Calvin," he said, his tone dark.
Calvin's smile widened, his eyes gleaming. "When have I ever led you astray?"
Kieran huffed, donning the armor piece by piece, the weight familiar and comforting. With his sword strapped to his back, he nodded once and strode toward the door.
As Kieran reached the door, Calvin's voice called out again. "Wait, Kieran."
Kieran stopped, turning back with a slight frown. "What now?"
Calvin stood, walking toward him with a measured stride. "Make sure you don't harm the princess," he said, his tone firm but calm. "The last thing we need is unnecessary complications."
Kieran raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Anything else?"
Calvin smirked, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a bundle of dark fabric. With a quick toss, he threw it to Kieran. "Here. A cloak to blend in better. Use it wisely."
Kieran caught it, examining the lightweight yet durable material. He draped it over his armor, the cloak falling perfectly to conceal the gleaming metal beneath. "Satisfied?" he asked dryly.
Calvin nodded, his eyes gleaming with a subtle hint of mischief. "Perfect. Now, get to it."
Kieran adjusted the cloak, giving Calvin a final nod before stepping out of the library. His heavy boots echoed against the stone floors as he made his way outside.
Once in the cool night air, Kieran scanned the castle's exterior. The towering walls loomed above, the moonlight casting faint shadows on the stone. He stepped into an alley beside the castle, searching for a way to scale the walls. His eyes landed on a series of vines creeping up the side of the structure, along with a stack of crates near the wall.
With a grunt, Kieran climbed onto the crates, his cloak flowing behind him. The vines provided a sturdy enough grip, and his powerful arms hauled him upward with ease. He reached the castle roof, the city spread out below him in a sea of flickering lights.
Staying low, Kieran moved silently across the tiles, his sharp eyes scanning for any guards patrolling nearby. He'd find a discreet path to the princess's chambers, ensuring his presence remained unnoticed. All the while, Calvin's instructions echoed in his mind: Don't harm the princess.
But as always, Calvin's true motives remained a mystery. And Kieran couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was about more than just eliminating an enemy. Kieran paused on the rooftop, his eyes drawn to the moon hanging high in the night sky. Its pale light bathed the sprawling kingdom of Brittlefrost in a serene glow, illuminating its grandeur. From the bustling city streets to the towering spires of the castle, everything seemed peaceful under the moon's gaze.
A rare smile crept onto Kieran's face as he took it all in. Despite the mission at hand, he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of the kingdom. The cold air carried a faint, crisp scent that reminded him of winter mornings in the mountains.
Shaking his head to refocus, Kieran began walking along the castle roof. He moved deliberately, peering over every edge, studying every detail of the structure. His sharp instincts ensured he left no stone unturned, no angle unchecked.
After some time, he spotted a balcony jutting out from one of the more ornate towers. The curtains inside fluttered faintly, and the soft glow of candlelight spilled out onto the stone. Kieran's sharp eyes locked onto a figure standing on the balcony. The man's silhouette was unmistakable—Kenelm Wembleye, the leader of Dragon's Roar. He leaned against the stone railing, his posture casual yet alert, as if he were deep in thought but ready to spring into action at any moment.
Kieran's jaw tightened. He had found his target.
The faint glow of candlelight from the room behind Kenelm illuminated his features—sharp, weathered, and hardened by years of battle. He was dressed in light, flexible armor, the kind that allowed for swift movement, and a longsword rested within arm's reach on a small table.
"That's him," Kieran muttered to himself.
He crouched low on the rooftop, his dark cloak blending seamlessly with the shadows. The princess's room was just beyond Kenelm, the balcony its only visible entrance. The situation was complicated—any move against Kenelm could easily draw attention, and there was no guarantee the princess wouldn't intervene.
Kieran hesitated for a moment, recalling Calvin's order: Don't harm the princess.
With a deep breath, he steadied himself. His instincts told him that this wouldn't be as straightforward as Calvin made it seem, but orders were orders. He scanned the surrounding area one more time, ensuring no guards were in sight, before preparing to move.
His eyes narrowed as he watched Kenelm. "You won't see me coming," Kieran whispered, his voice low and firm.
Kieran leaped onto the balcony, his movements swift and fluid despite his towering frame. The sound of his boots landing on the stone was enough to alert Kenelm, who turned sharply, his instincts honed by years of combat.
Kenelm's eyes widened for a split second before narrowing in recognition of the threat. Without hesitation, he dashed into the princess's room, grabbing the longsword resting on the nearby table.
"You're bold to come here," Kenelm said, his voice calm but edged with steel. He positioned himself between Kieran and the sleeping princess, his stance steady and ready for a fight. The glint of his blade caught the faint light of the room, a clear warning that he wouldn't back down easily.
Kieran straightened, his hulking figure casting a long shadow across the room. His emerald eyes glimmered beneath his hood as he pulled it back, revealing his grim expression. "I didn't come for her," he rumbled, his voice low and measured. "Just you."
Kenelm's grip on his sword tightened, his gaze flickering briefly to the princess before locking back onto Kieran. "Then you've made a mistake. You'll find no easy fight here."
Kieran smirked faintly, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. "I wasn't expecting one."