A Royal Obligation
Chapter 251: Upcoming Storm

Chapter 251: Upcoming Storm

Julian stepped out from behind a nearby hedge, his bow still raised, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "How was that for timing?" he asked, lowering the bow and striding toward Amarok.

Amarok blinked at him, exhaling slowly. "Impressive," he admitted, though his tone was laced with mild annoyance..

Julian grinned, clearly fishing for more praise. "Come on, you can do better than that. A kiss for my good aim, maybe?"

Amarok rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Lucian would’ve hit it faster," he teased, turning back toward the palace.

Julian gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if wounded. "That’s not fair! At least Lucian would’ve praised me properly."

Amarok only chuckled, shaking his head. He began walking away, leaving Julian trailing after him with a playful scowl.

"You can’t just walk off after insulting me like that," Julian called, jogging to catch up. "I demand retribution! A proper apology!"

"Catch me first," Amarok quipped over his shoulder, quickening his pace.

Julian’s laughter echoed through the garden as he chased Amarok back toward the palace, the fallen falcon and its intercepted message left forgotten somewhere in the grass.

---

The night air was cool and carried a faint scent of rain as Drystan rode into Zephyros, his cloak billowing behind him. The palace gates creaked open without hesitation the moment the guards spotted him. Their faces lit with recognition, they exchanged brief glances before rushing to open the gates.

"Sir Drystan," one of the guards greeted him, stepping aside to let him through.

Drystan offered a curt nod in acknowledgment, as he urged his horse forward, his urgency apparent.

Inside the palace grounds, he dismounted swiftly, tossing the reins to a stable hand who barely had time to catch them. Without waiting, Drystan strode toward the palace’s grand entrance, his boots clicking against the marble steps with purposeful urgency.

The throne room was alive with faint echoes of conversation when Drystan entered. King Reagan sat on the high throne, his face stern but attentive, while General Alaric stood beside him, a map of the surrounding kingdoms spread out on the table between them. They were deep in discussion, their voices low but intense. At the sound of the heavy doors creaking open, both men turned their gazes toward Drystan.

Drystan bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, General."

"Drystan," the king greeted, his tone laced with curiosity. "You’ve returned. How are Kaelix and Prince Eirik?"

"They are well, Your Majesty," Drystan replied. He reached into his satchel and produced a sealed letter. "Prince Kaelix asked me to deliver this to you personally."

King Reagan’s sharp gaze lingered on Drystan briefly before he took the letter and broke the seal.

The flickering torchlight illuminated his face as he read, his expression shifted subtly as he read, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before smoothing again.

General Alaric leaned closer, his curiosity barely concealed. "What does it say?" he asked after a moment, but the king did not respond immediately. Instead, he handed the letter to Alaric, who took it with a questioning look and began to read.

Turning his attention back to Drystan, King Reagan spoke with a firm yet calm voice. "Take the best of our men at dawn. Track down Carl and do not let him slip through your fingers. Use whatever means necessary."

Drystan bowed deeply, though his expression hardened with determination. "It will be done, Your Majesty."

"For now," the king added, his tone softening slightly, "rest. You’ve traveled far, and you’ll need your strength for what lies ahead."

Drystan hesitated, a flicker of protest crossing his features, but he nodded obediently. "As you command." With another bow, he turned and exited the throne room.

The heavy doors closed behind him, leaving the king and General Alaric alone. Alaric lowered the letter, his lips pressed into a thin line as he considered its contents. "This isn’...," he began, his voice low, but the king silenced him with a curt shake of his head.

"No more," King Reagan said firmly, his eyes narrowing.

"But, Your Majesty..."

"I said no more." The king’s tone was resolute, though his gaze softened slightly, betraying a glimmer of understanding. "We have no room for error. Follow the instructions in the letter exactly. I trust Kaelix knows what he’s doing."

General Alaric exhaled heavily but nodded. "Very well. I’ll see to it personally." He bowed deeply and left the room, his mind already calculating how best to prepare for what was to come.

Once alone, King Reagan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands came together in front of him. The weight of unseen burdens pressed down on his shoulders. He stared into the flickering shadows cast by the torches, his thoughts swirling with unease.

"Kaelix..." he murmured, the name hanging in the silence. "You may be right, but this path will not be an easy one."

He sat there for a long moment, lost in his thoughts, before muttering softly, almost to himself, "It seems the Four Kingdoms will soon be reduced to three."

Beyond the throne room, a faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, as if the heavens themselves anticipated the storm that was yet to come.

---

Drystan stood outside his quarters, his hand hovering over the doorknob. For a moment, he debated whether he even wanted to step inside. It had been weeks since he’d last crossed this threshold, weeks of chaos and heartbreak. His fingers tightened slightly before he finally turned the knob and stepped in, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The room was exactly as he’d left it, neat, pristine, almost untouched. His bed was perfectly made, the dark green quilt tucked neatly at the edges, the pillows fluffed and aligned. A small wooden desk stood near the far corner, an inkpot and a half-written letter left as they were weeks ago. The quill rested on its stand, as though waiting for him to finish the words he could no longer remember starting.

A few books sat stacked on the side table near his bed, their leather spines well-worn from years of use. The faint scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of pinewood from the polished furniture. The soft golden glow of the single lantern lit the space, casting shadows that danced along the walls, making the room feel both familiar and strangely distant.

Drystan’s gaze swept over the room, and his chest tightened. Every corner seemed to whisper of memories he had tried to bury. His eyes landed on the window, wide and slightly open, letting in the cool night air. It was just as he’d imagined it would be, just as it had been so many times before.

He exhaled deeply and moved toward the window, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. He paused in front of it, his hand brushing against the sill. For a long moment, he simply stared out at the horizon, where the stars glittered against the dark sky and the distant treetops swayed gently in the breeze.

This window... It had always been Sadiki’s favorite spot. Drystan could picture him there so clearly, standing by the ledge, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, his gaze distant and thoughtful. How many times had Drystan walked in to find him like that? Lost in his thoughts, so deep in his own world that he hadn’t even noticed Drystan enter the room.

"If only I knew..." he muttered, the words barely audible as they escaped his lips. His fingers curled around the windowsill, the wood cool and solid beneath his touch. His mind was flooded with memories, Sadiki’s quiet smiles, the way he gets worked up, whenever Drystan teased him, the warmth of his voice as they talked late into the night.

But those memories were tainted now, overshadowed by the betrayal that had nearly destroyed them all. "Wait for me," he whispered, his voice firm despite the ache in his chest.

His jaw tightened as his thoughts shifted to Prince Carl. That man had orchestrated so much suffering, manipulating Sadiki, endangering Eirik, and driving their kingdoms to the brink of chaos. Drystan’s grip on the windowsill tightened. Carl would pay. For Eirik. For Kaelix. For all of them.

The night breeze rustled his hair as he stood there, staring out into the vast darkness. Somewhere out there, Carl was running, thinking he could escape justice. But Drystan would find him. He would make sure of it.

Turning away from the window, he let out a slow breath and walked to the desk. His eyes fell on the half-written letter. Picking it up, he read the first few lines, his handwriting sharp and deliberate. It was a letter he’d started for Sadiki, written before everything had fallen apart. His lips pressed into a thin line as he folded it and placed it back on the desk.

The room felt too quiet now, too heavy with unspoken words and lingering memories. Drystan shook his head and began unstrapping his armor, placing it carefully on the stand by the door.

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