Kens Kaeluse.

  The name alone told me everything and nothing at the same time.

  The Kaeluse Dynasty had a reputation that stretched across the continent. They were known for producing knights, sword prodigies, dueling maniacs, and the occasional eccentric who lived and died with a blade in hand. Some of them were polite. Some of them were arrogant. Some were just weird. No two Kaeluse sons acted the same, but the Dynasty itself was always respected for one reason.

  Talent.

  Raw, natural, overwhelming talent.

  Theo Kaeluse, the current captain of the Royal Garde and sworn shield of the king, was the brightest example. I had never met him, but anyone who paid attention to rumors had heard the exaggerated stories. If Theo Kaeluse was considered the pinnacle of royal swordsmanship, then any sibling of his could not be dismissed lightly.

  Which meant that this Kens Kaeluse, whoever he was, probably swung a sword like it was a sixth limb. Or he could be completely mediocre and living under Theo’s shadow. There was no way of knowing. The Kaeluse sons varied too much.

  Still, one thing annoyed me more than anything.

  I hated socializing with other Dynasties. I hated the false politeness, the fake smiles, the measuring looks. They all saw me as a bastard. A walking stain. A problem waiting to happen. I had no intention of meeting someone from their ranks at midnight. Midnight. Like I was some criminal being summoned for interrogation.

  No.

  I folded my arms and stared at the nervous servant who had delivered the message.

  “Tell them I am unavailable,” I said. “Midnight is not an acceptable time. If they want to meet me, they can meet me tomorrow afternoon.”

  The servant blinked. His mouth hung open for a moment, as if the idea of rejecting this had never crossed his simple rural mind.

  “B-but, young master, the request was marked as urgent.”

  “Urgent for them,” I replied. “Not for me. Urgent is sleep. So sleep I shall.”

  And with that, I shut the door.

  I tossed myself back into the bed. The pillows welcomed me. My eyes closed almost instantly. I did not care what a Kaeluse wanted. If Kens Kaeluse had a problem with my schedule, he could take it up with Jabbelore Forest. That forest and I had reached an understanding. I had suffered enough for one week.

  Sleep took me quickly.

  It did not feel like drifting. It felt like sinking.

  ```

  The moon hung low over a sprawling jungle. Its pale light filtered through twisted branches and thick vines. The air was cold and damp. Insects hummed in the distance, only to fall silent as the silhouettes of three figures stepped through the shadows.

  One was sitting on a nearby branch with bright gold eyes that struck through the night.

  The other had what almost looked to be a deformed silhouette, as if it weren’t human.

  And the last one wore a wide-brimmed hat whilst smoking a bamboo pipe.

  None of them walked. Their motions were too smooth, too soundless. They seemed to glide between the trees like thoughts with weight.

  The tallest of the three let out a relaxed sigh.

  “Everything is ready,” he said. “I’ve planted a spy amongst their kind.”

  Another figure sat on a moss-covered rock. Their voice was light and casual, as if they were gossiping over tea.

  “The Herald is at the predetermined site, too. A little later than expected, but he got there.”

  The last figure flicked something off their sleeve. Their silhouette moved like a cat stretching.

  “The Herald died though. That part was unfortunate. He ran into one of the remote scouts in Jabbelore Forest. Pretty bad fucking luck if you ask me.”

  “He was revived though,” the second said. “Him and whoever he saw that day. Their bodies and surroundings were reconstructed to an earlier state. It’s all good now.”

  “Good,” a figure said. “But what about his memories? If the Herald remembers the attack in the forest, it could ruin everything.”

  “They were replaced,” the other answered. “The moment he woke up again, his memories should’ve matched the environment we created for him. He should have no idea anything happened.”

  “Perfect,” another figure said. “Once we’ve moved the army into place, the Herald will announce our arrival to the continent. All he has to do is exist.”

  “And, y’know, to not die.” one added.

  “There’s only one problem,” one of the figures said. “They’re all growing impatient. If we don’t move them soon, they’ll probably start acting on their own.”

  “We’re not gonna keep everything we’ve prepared waiting,” the other replied.

  One of them looked toward the glowing horizon.

  “The Herald should begin to move soon. Let’s see how he plays his part.”

  The jungle swallowed their voices.

  The moonlight dimmed.

  And the jungle returned to silence.

  ```

  Warm sunlight touched my face.

  I groaned and rolled over in bed. My body felt heavy, like the blankets had wrapped around me and refused to let go. I cracked my eyes open.

  The window beside the bed was bright. Much too bright.

  I blinked again.

  Then again.

  Then I sat up.

  “…Wait. This isn’t morning,” I muttered.

  The light was soft and orange. Afternoon sunlight.

  I scrambled to my feet and stumbled toward the window. The sun was already low in the sky.

  I slept through the entire morning and half the day.

  A piece of paper sat neatly on the desk. I rubbed my face, walked over, and opened it.

  Young master Jakob,

  Captain Kens Kaeluse has agreed to your requested time. He will be waiting for you at the nearest outpost one hour from the moment you wake.

  I stared at the letter.

  “…He just agreed like that?” I whispered.

  So Kens Kaeluse was not the type to throw a fit over schedules. Or he was the type who believed his presence alone was enough. Or maybe he did not care altogether. Hard to read Kaeluses. Harder when I only knew his last name.

  A loud rumble came from my stomach.

  Right. Food.

  I left the room and headed downstairs. As I reached the bottom, I spotted Wilmoris arranging bowls on a table. His eyes widened the moment he saw me.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Oh. Lord Jakob. Forgive me. I did not wake you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”

  He stiffened. “I did not think I had the right to tug on the blanket of someone as exalted as yourself. I feared… offending you.”

  I stared at him.

  Then I sighed.

  This was the problem with being accidentally treated like royalty. Everyone assumed touching me would summon lightning.

  “It is fine,” I said. “Just prepare the carriage. And prepare clothes fit for a meeting with someone from the Kaeluse Dynasty.”

  Wilmoris nodded so fast I thought his neck would crack. “Yes. Of course. Right away.”

  He hurried off, almost tripping twice.

  I sank into a chair and began eating the meal he had left out. Warm stew. Soft bread. Fresh-cut fruit. Simple but filling.

  An hour.

  I had one hour to prepare myself to speak with a Kaeluse.

  I dropped a spoonful of stew back into the bowl.

  “I really hate this,” I whispered.

  But I ate anyway.

  The meeting could not be avoided.

  Kens Kaeluse awaited.

  And I would face him.

  Whether I liked it or not.

  ```

  The ride out of Foklunn was quiet in a way I actually appreciated.

  The village faded behind me in soft clumps of thatched roofs and morning smoke, replaced by long stretches of dirt road and low grass bending under the wind. My carriage creaked along steadily, wheels crunching against gravel as the wooden fences of farmland slowly gave way to sturdier barricades reinforced with iron posts.

  This was the northern edge of comfort.

  The closer we got to the fence outpost, the more the land flattened. Trees thinned out. The air felt wider, emptier. Like the world was holding its breath.

  Eventually, the northern Fence came into view.

  It was massive. Taller than I expected. Thick wooden beams reinforced with iron plates, running endlessly left and right as far as the eye could see. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals like vigilant sentinels. Beyond the fence, the land dipped into grassy plains that shimmered faintly under the sun, rolling endlessly toward the rumored oasis beyond.

  Beautiful.

  And probably very deadly.

  The carriage slowed as armored figures stepped forward, halberds crossed for a brief moment before one of them noticed the Jakobster crest and snapped to attention.

  “northern Watch!” one of them barked. “Open the gate!”

  Wood groaned. Iron rattled. The gate parted just enough for my carriage to pass through before sealing itself shut behind us with a heavy thunk that echoed in my chest.

  Inside the outpost, the mood was tense but controlled. Soldiers moved with purpose, armor scuffed and dulled from constant wear. Some sharpened blades. Some leaned against walls, talking quietly. Some stared out past the fence as if expecting it to bite back.

  The carriage came to a stop near the central platform overlooking the plains.

  “This is as far as I go, young master,” the coachman said.

  “Good work,” I replied, slipping out before he could bow himself into the dirt.

  The wind hit my face immediately. Dry. Clean. It smelled like grass and steel.

  “That view never gets old.”

  The voice came from my right.

  I turned and saw him.

  Kens Kaeluse.

  He was tall. Annoyingly tall. Taller than me, which I noticed instantly and hated a little. Lean build, long limbs, posture relaxed to the point of disrespect. His skin carried the bronze tan common to the Kaeluse bloodline, and his brown hair was tied loosely at the back, strands falling into sharp, narrow eyes that sparkled with interest rather than discipline.

  He looked young.

  Like someone who still laughed too easily.

  And somehow, this idiot was a captain.

  He grinned when he noticed me staring.

  “Wow. You look different than I imagined. Less scary.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And you look quite relaxed.”

  “I am relaxed!” He clapped his hands together and stepped forward, bowing quickly but properly. “Captain Kens Kaeluse. Acting commander of the northern Watch. And according to the many, many shitty rules I signed without reading, I am technically your subordinate.”

  He straightened and smiled again, wide and boyish.

  “I’m really glad you’re not the yelling type.”

  I sighed.

  Of course he was like this.

  “Jakob Jakobster,” I said. “And I already regret coming.”

  “That makes two of us,” he replied cheerfully, then blinked. “Wait, no. That came out wrong. Wait, Jakob? Jakobster…? You sound pretty important to be named after your entire goddamn dynasty. That’s like if they named a prince Frand Frandor or something.

  Correction. I was pretty fucking important. Then it all went from 100 to 0 in an instant.

  He motioned toward a rough wooden bench near the fence, overlooking the plains beyond. “Sit. Please. I promise this does not involve bowing or speeches or politics. I hate those.”

  That alone earned him a point.

  We sat. The fence loomed behind us, warm from the sun. Below, the plains rippled like a muted ocean.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke.

  Then Kens leaned back, resting his hands behind his head.

  “So. I called you because things are getting weird.”

  “That was obvious the moment you requested a midnight meeting,” I replied. “You should work on timing.”

  “Yeah, that one’s on me. I was alarmed about something.”

  I glanced sideways. “About monsters?”

  “About dying,” he corrected casually. “Which tends to be related.”

  I stared.

  He noticed and waved a hand. “Not me. Our scouts of the northern Watch. Good people. Some of the best trackers we have.”

  My mood shifted instantly.

  Kens dropped his playful tone, just a little.

  “We’ve seen an increase in Lycan activity near the fences.”

  That’s when I was reminded that my upbringing revolved around conforming to the aristocracy, not hunting or killing monsters on the backside of the continent.

  I think he sensed my lack of monster knowledge and began to speak up.

  “Lycans.” He said whilst looking ahead

  “Semi intelligent monsters. Tribal. Werewolf-like. Known for being territorial and extreme hostility to outsiders. They were ugly creatures. Fast. Organized in packs. Smart enough to lay ambushes but dumb enough to smash their faces into fortified positions if provoked. They live in swamps according to our scouts in the past.”

  “I don’t see any swamps nearby, though.” I replied.

  “Exactly,” Kens replied. “They guard their territory like it is sacred ground. They don’t wander unless something bigger or badder drives them out.”

  I folded my arms. “Like what?”

  He counted off on his fingers. “Other Lycans. Giant Silvertongued Swamp Frogs. Undead. Three-Headed Ogres. Or Hellhounds.

  I stared at him.

  He shrugged. “I told you it was weird.”

  The wind rustled the grass below. Somewhere in the distance, a bird cried out before quickly going silent.

  “We don’t know which it is,” Kens continued. “Every scout team we sent deeper into the plains did not come back. Not one.”

  “How many?” I asked quietly.

  “Enough that I stopped sending more.”

  That surprised me.

  He noticed and smirked faintly. “See. I can be responsible sometimes.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “If those Lycans start pouring out of the fences en masse,” I said slowly, “this becomes much bigger than your outpost.”

  “Yeah. Royal army big. Everyone starts panicking big.”

  “What if the thing that's driving them out attacks us in the crossfire?” I added.

  “That’s worse,” Kens said simply.

  I looked at him again. Really looked.

  Behind the jokes and the relaxed posture, there were dark circles under his eyes. Old ones. He hadn’t been sleeping.

  “You’re scared,” I said.

  He blinked, then laughed awkwardly. “Is it that obvious?”

  “To someone who died yesterday, yes.”

  He froze.

  “…I was joking,” I added quickly.

  Kens laughed again, louder this time, but it sounded forced. “Good one. You Jakobsters sure have a sense of humor.”

  Not like you know.

  “So,” he continued, shaking his head and refocusing. “I needed to inform you as acting lord of Foklunn. If things escalate, this village is the closest supply point. And likely the first thing that gets hit from the inside if the fence fails.”

  “Cheery,” I replied.

  “I do my best.” Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Also, between us… I think something is watching.”

  That made my spine prickle.

  “Explain.”

  “Lycan don’t probe this carefully. They rush. They test weakness with blood. This feels like pressure.” He tapped the fence behind us. “Like someone pushing the board pieces around.”

  I swallowed.

  Pressure. Scouts vanishing. Monsters moving where they should not.

  And me.

  I forced my expression to remain neutral.

  “You did the right thing by calling me,” I said, fully knowing I ain’t doing jackshit to help.

  Kens smiled, relief flashing across his face. “Really?”

  “Yeah. And for what it’s worth, you’re not as annoying as I expected.”

  His eyes lit up. “That’s the highest praise I’ve ever received from a Jakobster. Can I frame that?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He stood and stretched, arms high in the air like a cat. “Then I guess we are allies now.”

  I stood as well, facing the plains beyond the fence.

  Allies.

  For now.

  Something out there had already killed me once.

  And it was getting closer.

  Whether Kens realized it or not, he was already part of this mess.

  “Keep your men sharp,” I said. “Do not send any more scouts beyond the fence.”

  He nodded, serious now. “Understood. And Jakob.”

  I looked at him.

  “Try not to ‘die’ again, heh.” he said with a grin.

  I laughed despite myself.

  I replied. “...working on it.”