Chapter 48: Bare the Truth...
Keiser’s thoughts drifted back to Muzio and the chain of events he had unknowingly set in motion.
The boy likely hadn’t known what he had caused. All he’d wanted was a place to hide, a shelter to call his own.
The sigils he had carved into the bark of trees, the runes etched into the beams of that rough barn... those were not acts of malice, but of desperation.
He had been building a sanctuary for himself and for Lenko, a place to survive. Yet that very sanctuary had displaced others.
Because of those wards, the beasts of Sheol had been driven from their rightful place.
They hadn’t vanished instantly, rather, the order of the forest had been slowly unraveled, its natural paths warped by illusions that kept the predators circling away from Muzio’s little haven.
The beast, robbed of their hunting grounds, wandered further afield. Hunger and instinct drove them into lands where they should never have been.
And there, in Hinnom, people suffered.
Villagers believed they were cursed, poisoned by the words of a silver-tongued mage who twisted their fear into doctrine. They did not see displaced beasts or broken balance. They only saw omens, punishments, divine wrath.
And in that misunderstanding, lives were ruined... families torn apart, daily rhythms broken, the fragile fabric of freedom ripped away.
Keiser’s chest tightened.
Should he tell them? Should he lay bare the truth... that it was not curses or fate, but Muzio’s own wards that had toppled the first stone leading to this ruin?
He glanced at Lenko, who walked beside him, shoulder steadying his weakened steps. The boy had endured so much already, and worked just as tirelessly as Muzio to protect what little they had. Burdening him with this, would be cruel.
Besides, Muzio was gone. His body remained, but the mind inside it was Keiser’s, and Keiser was not a forgiving man. He had killed without hesitation... men, beasts, whatever stood in his way. The sword he wielded cared nothing for whose blood it spilled... only that it cut clean and deep.
To confess the truth now would not heal, it would unravel what little had been restored.
The princess was working to stitch this place back together, fragile thread by fragile thread. One careless truth, dropped in the wrong moment, could tear open every wound again.
And Keiser, unlike the boy supporting him, was not kind enough to gamble with that.
His gaze shifted sideways again to Lenko, who bore most of his weight without complaint. Keiser’s feet dragged more than they walked, each step jarring his battered frame. Lenko tightened his hold, steadying him with the quiet stubbornness that was his way.
Behind, the princess walked with Diego at the rear of the procession.
Their expressions were serious, voices low, words muffled by the march of feet. When Keiser’s eye caught hers, she broke the silence with a subtle gesture, beckoning them back. Even Lenko paused, uncertain, before guiding Keiser to fall a few steps behind the line of villagers.
The procession continued forward, their grieved and prayers carried with them toward the village. Keiser, Lenko, Diego and the princess lingered at the back, their pace slowing until only the crunch of dirt beneath their boots marked their distance.
Diego glanced their way, concern flickering across his bearded face. "If you’ll allow it, I could carry him," the mercenary offered.
Keiser let out a bitter smile, his voice rasping sharp through clenched teeth. "...No."
"What are you two planning to do?" the princess asked once they had settled into a rhythm that Keiser could endure.
Lenko glanced at her, puzzled by the princess’s question. Keiser drew in a slow breath, his voice steadier than his legs felt.
"We’ll be heading to the capital soon."
The words made Lenko falter mid-step. The princess, who had been walking slightly ahead, stopped as well. Even Diego, halted and turned his gaze toward Keiser.
"I told you... you can’t. Not like this, not now." Lenko hissed, his face animated with alarm. Keiser thought, in a cruel way, that under different circumstances he might have laughed at Lenko’s exaggerated expression. But even the princess looked genuinely bewildered.
"...When?" she asked, carefully.
Keiser hummed, as if the answer required no hesitation. "Tomorrow."
"No."
The word came sharp, simultaneous, and in perfect unison from all three of them.
The sheer synchronicity startled Keiser, who blinked at them. Their expressions varied... Lenko’s was fierce, the princess’s edged with disbelief, Diego’s flat with disapproval... but the message was the same.
"Not with your body like that..." Lenko muttered, his grip on Keiser’s arm tightening.
"To be honest, you look like you’re about to keel over," the princess added bluntly.
Diego gave a slow shake of his head. "You wouldn’t last the road to the capital. Three days at best. It’ll kill you.
"Keiser let their voices wash over him but refused to bend. He knew why he had to go.
He remembered the proclamation he’d glimpsed on the bulletin board back then... not just an idle decree, but something dire, something that had tied his fate now to Muzio’s death and Lenko’s as well.
If he didn’t uncover the truth... how or why it had happened... then his chance of survival would vanish with their names.
Because technically, he was Muzio now. And the danger wasn’t a distant possibility... it was here, gnawing at him every moment his body weakened. To stay in one place was far more dangerous than moving, even in this state.
What was worse, this village wasn’t some nameless refuge. Everyone here knew who he was... the tenth prince, the missing prince.
News of Muzio’s return would spread quickly, carried into the hands of those who wished him dead. He and Lenko would both be hunted.
That was the reality, and it left him with no choice.
"I... I can help with that."
The voice came suddenly, cutting through their tense exchange. All of them turned, eyes settling on the speaker.
It was a young man, no older than they were. Auburn hair, braided at one side and strung with colorful stones, framed eyes of clear blue, a shade as ordinary here as the sky itself.
But what drew Keiser’s attention wasn’t his appearance... it was the way he clutched at his chest, as though steadying something heavy inside him.
Keiser recognized him almost at once. He had seen him earlier, standing behind Roan’s wife, the kind elderly woman in the funeral procession.
At first, he had assumed the boy was her son... though something about his youth made that seem unlikely. No, not the son. A grandson, perhaps? Yet even that didn’t fit.
The truth was plainer, he was one of the grieving. Another soul left adrift by what had happened here.
The young man stepped forward, his jaw set though his hands trembled. "As long as you take me to the capital," he said, his voice carrying both desperation and resolve, "I can help heal him."
He stopped in front of Keiser, meeting his gaze squarely, and in those blue eyes burned a need that was more than simple kindness. It carried the raw edge of someone who had a reason... one strong enough to face you head-on, a reason worth stepping into danger for.