"I'll only ask this once."

Keiser's voice came low and even as he drew his sword. The sound of metal rang sharp against the night air, cutting through the frantic panting of the two old men and the uneasy snort of the horses that tried to pull away from the tension.

"Decide… do you want to be carved sideways, or split clean down the middle?"

Both men froze. Their Adam's apples bobbed in unison before they slowly turned to glance at each other. The smaller one on the left found his courage first, though his voice trembled.

"H-his highness told us we'd find you here at this time,"

That made Keiser's grip tighten. His eyes narrowed, the tip of his sword shifting slightly as he changed stance, weight poised to strike.

Then the taller old man suddenly flailed a hand, waving something that caught the torch light. "Th-this! Look! He said, if you see this, y-you'll help! There's trouble at the auction, and uh they need... you!"

Keiser didn't move. He just watched them, his eyes darting between their trembling faces and the parchment in the man's hand, a folded letter.

He approached slowly, his boots crunching against the gravel. "You better hope this isn't a joke," he muttered, snatching the paper from their shaking fingers.

For a moment, he simply turned it in his hand, scanning for any signs of trickery or hidden runes. Nothing. But he knew better than to trust his own eyes.

Aisha had lectured him about that once, something about 'miniscule runes'. She once explained how some runes were written so small and thin that even a mage's trained eyes could miss them.

She had even bragged about her own runes etched beneath her every step, carved into the soles of her shoes until the mana burned them out. He could still recall her smirk as she changed pairs like someone changing moods, the faint scent of scorched leather following her.

Keiser still had no idea what she meant. He couldn't see mana even if it slapped him across the face, but he'd learned enough to be suspicious of things that looked normal.

But he'd learned enough to be cautious.

Satisfied it wasn't glowing or humming or screaming trap in any obvious way, he unfolded the paper.

It was short, barely a few lines, but it made him reread it twice just to be sure he wasn't imagining it.

He frowned. "...Who the hell wrote this?"

The two blinked at each other, as if confirming their story again, before the taller one spoke up meekly. "...His Highness?"

Keiser exhaled through his nose, the sound halfway between a sigh and a growl. "That doesn't narrow it down," he muttered. After all, there were more than ten princes, and even more princesses.

He held the paper up between two fingers, studying it again. The handwriting was crude, uneven, and, uncomfortably, familiar. The slanted strokes, the way the ink dug too deep into the parchment on certain letters.

It looked exactly like his own handwriting.

'They will betray you. I'll tell you the rest, come find me.'

Keiser's brow furrowed. The words could've meant anything. For all he knew, the warning referred to the very old men standing before him. But what unsettled him most wasn't the message itself.

It was the same sharp flick at the end of his name. He thought he might have written it himself, though the thought made no sense. He'd never put his full name in writing. No one even knew it but him.

Which could only mean one thing.

Someone who knew, wrote this for him.

***

When they finally reached the auction house, Keiser didn't bother sneaking in through any back alley. He walked straight through the front gate.

The same knights who had given him as much as headache before were stationed there, and of course, they didn't learn their lesson. It didn't take long before they were back on the ground, rolling and groaning. He didn't kill them, just made them 'meet their maker for a few seconds,' as he liked to put it.

The two old men were frantically waving at him from the side, urging him toward the entrance. But before he could take a step in that direction, he felt it, something that made his skin prickle.

Even though he couldn't sense mana, there was a warmth in the air, like the rush before lightning strikes. It wasn't natural. That was enough for him to move.

The moment he stepped inside, the scent of smoke and dust hit him.

The theater hall was nothing like the last time he'd been here. Back when Gideon would drag him along as a teenager, back when the two of them snuck in just to watch performers make fools of themselves, or to witness those disgusting auctions that he could never stop even if he wanted to.

Now, the place looked gutted. The middle and most of the seats were cracked inward, as though the whole center of the hall had been swallowed. The floor had collapsed in a circle, forming a tilted crater. Oddly enough, some furniture still clung to the edge, tables, chairs, candelabras, like they refused to slid down to their end.

His ears were ringing.

It wasn't from the blast of noise, but from something else. Something thick in the air that pressed against his head like pressure.

He scanned around and froze.

There someone he recognized, a mercenary, the old men from Hinnom, the one with the massive claymore. The old man had someone slung over his shoulder, wrapped in red cloth. His boot, however, was planted firmly on another figure that was thrashing beneath what looked like also on a rolled up carpet.

The one on his back, he couldn't quite see the face, but there was something familiar about them.

Then he spotted someone else.

A woman with green hair. But, no pointed ears, so not elven. When their eyes met, he had to blink just to make sure he wasn't imagining it. Those eyes, ruby red.

Aurex Red.

He frowned. That couldn't be right. He didn't remember any of the King's spawn with green hair. He'd have to ask Gideon later, if this wasn't another one of those royal headaches he kept finding himself in.

The kid beside her was pointing straight at him, shouting something he couldn't make out over the noise. The two old men were now leaning over the edge of the crater, gesturing frantically for him to go down there.

Fine. He was curious anyway.

He jumped.

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