The hooves slowed as dawn's first light crept over the horizon. Mist rolled gently across the plains, and in the distance, a vast forest rose beside a mountain of pale stone. At its base shimmered a quiet lake — its surface smooth as glass, reflecting the faint gold of morning.
The cloaked rider leading them raised a hand and spoke, her voice calm but edged with fatigue.
"We stop here."
Roxy pulled at her reins, the horse slowing to a halt. The sudden stillness felt unreal after the endless night of battle and flight. Her body ached, every muscle screaming for rest — but when she looked at the lake, the still water almost seemed to ease her pain.
Cedric dismounted beside her, limping slightly as he helped the Third Prince down from his saddle.
"This place…" Cedric murmured, glancing toward the dark opening in the mountain's side. "A cave?"
The cloaked woman nodded. "It's hidden well. The forest shields it from the roads. We'll rest there until nightfall."
The air was cool and quiet, no echo of pursuit, no sound of marching soldiers. Only the soft rustle of trees and the distant call of a bird broke the silence.
Roxy let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The scent of wet grass and pine filled her lungs.
She turned toward Cedric, who was binding his wounded leg with a torn piece of cloth. His usual grin was gone; his expression was calm, thoughtful. When he noticed her gaze, he gave a tired smile.
"You did well back there," he said quietly.
Roxy looked down, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"We were lucky," she said softly. "If those two hadn't shown up… we'd all be dead."
The air around the cave was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of pine and wet stone. A soft breeze stirred the lake's surface, sending ripples of morning light dancing across the cave walls.
The horses grazed nearby, their breathing slow and even, while the three of them — Roxy, Cedric, and the Third Prince — stood near the cave entrance, still catching their breath.
The cloaked figure who had led them there finally arrived back after taking a look around the surronding. She loosened the dark cloth from around her shoulders, untying the mask that had concealed her face.
When the mask fell away, the morning light caught her features, light blue hair that shimmered faintly in the dawn, smooth and untied, falling to her shoulders. Her eyes were deep black, calm yet sharp, carrying a quiet authority that made it hard to look away.
"I'm Olivia," she said, her voice clear and even. "Your Captain assigned us to assist you, should the need arise. He anticipated that the mission could turn dangerous, and sent us to intervene only if necessary."
Roxy blinked, surprise flashing across her face. "The Captain… sent you?"
Olivia nodded lightly. "Yes. My orders were simple — observe, and act only when your lives were at risk. The ones who fought back there — the man with the twin blades and the large one with the axe — there are my partners."
Cedric exhaled, a tired but relieved smile tugging at his lips.
"So that's who they were. I should've known the Captain would think that far ahead."
He extended a hand slightly, wincing from the strain in his arm. "Thank you — all of you. We owe you more than we can say."
Olivia gave a faint nod, her tone modest but firm.
"No thanks needed. We're on the same side."
Her gaze softened for a moment as she looked toward the forest.
"For now, we'll rest here. The two men will regroup with us by nightfall. Once they arrive, we'll decide our next move."
Cedric nodded. "Alright. We'll wait here."
The cave grew quieter again. The morning light slanted through the trees, painting the rocky walls with streaks of gold. Roxy sat near the entrance, her dagger still at her side, watching the lake shimmer in the distance. After a long time, she felt the tightness in her chest ease just a little.
The war, the mission, the losses — they hadn't ended. But at least for this brief, quiet morning, they were alive.
The forest outside had long fallen silent. Only the low crackle of the campfire echoed softly within the cave, its light painting faint shadows across the walls.
Midnight had just passed when footsteps approached from outside, slow, heavy, and familiar. Roxy instantly straightened, her dagger half drawn, but the tension eased the moment two figures stepped through the cave entrance.
Rolsten's deep voice broke the quiet.
"Oh, we are back!" he boomed, his grin wide and genuine as he walked in, brushing snow and leaves off his shoulder.
Roxy let out a quiet breath. Cedric gave a small nod in greeting, his hand relaxing on his sword.
Rolsten laughed, the sound echoing in the stone chamber.
"Let me introduce myself properly this time," he said, sitting down heavily near the fire. "Name's Rolsten. I'm one of your Captain's old companions — been working with him for about five years. I'm not officially under his command, but whenever he needs me, I come running."
Before anyone could reply, Rolsten clapped a massive hand on the shoulder of the blond man beside him — the same masked fighter from earlier. The blow was so strong it nearly sent him stumbling forward.
"Oi, why don't you introduce yourself too?" Rolsten said with a grin.
"And take off that damn mask. Doesn't look good on you anyway!"
The blond man sighed, muttering something under his breath before straightening. "Alright," he said quietly. His hands reached up and pulled the black mask free.
Roxy's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
"You… you're—"
The man met her stare calmly, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Johan," he said. "I used to be one of your Captain's enemies… but now, I fight on his side."
Roxy shot up, her eyes blazing.
"You?! How—how could the Captain take you in? After everything—!"
Before she could take another step forward, Rolsten raised a hand, still smiling but his tone carrying quiet weight.
"Easy, girl. It's your Captain's decision. If he trusts him, then so should we."
Roxy froze, her lips pressing into a tight line. Her glare softened into reluctant acceptance — but not without a hint of childish defiance. She crossed her arms and muttered, "Fine… but I'll ask the Captain myself later."
Rolsten chuckled. "That's the spirit."
Cedric, sitting near the fire, watched the exchange quietly before speaking. His tone was calm, sincere.
"I don't know what happened between you all in the past," he said, "but if the Captain trusts you, that's enough for me. Let me thank all of you — for helping us back there."
The group fell into a comfortable silence. The flames danced softly between them — casting light on the strange new gathering: allies once divided by war, now brought together under the same man's name.
Outside, the forest whispered in the cold wind, and the lake shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
For the first time in a long while, they were safe.
But deep inside, Roxy couldn't shake the unease.
Johan… on our side?
Even now, it didn't feel real.
The night wind carried faint echoes of the forest — rustling leaves, the soft hum of crickets, the whisper of a faraway stream.
Far from the mountains where Roxy and Cedric rested, another fire burned — this one at the heart of a small encampment.
The Captain stood before his twenty-five soldiers, his cloak rippling in the cold breeze. Behind him, the empire's banners swayed faintly, but his voice rose above everything — steady, commanding, and full of conviction.
"Listen well," he said.
"From this day forward, we are no longer just soldiers. We are the shield for those who have none."
His gaze swept over the group — every face turned toward him, silent and waiting.
"We serve under the Empire's name," he continued, "but our duty is not to power or politics. It's to the people — the children, the elders, the ones who have lost everything."
He paused, then pointed toward the barren land nearby.
"I'm ordering all of you to build a shelter here. A place for those who have nowhere else to go. No matter their name, no matter their past — if they seek safety, we will give it."
A murmur ran through the ranks — not doubt, but pride. Then came a cheer that broke into the night air.
"Yes, Captain!"
The Captain nodded once, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"We will become the hope of the weak," he said firmly. "But remember — we will not go against the law. Defiance only breeds more suffering. If the world won't protect them… then we will."
A familiar voice rang out — Albert, the youngest in the squad, raising his arm with his usual cheerful energy.
"Yes, Captain! We'll do our best!"
The Captain chuckled softly. "I know you will, Albert." His eyes softened as he looked at them all — tired faces, scarred hands, but hearts still burning with purpose.
"I trust every one of you," he said finally.
"Let's build something worth protecting."
The soldiers shouted once more in unison, their voices echoing into the cold night — a vow that cut through the silence like a beacon of hope.
The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, brushing the encampment in pale gold. Dew still clung to the grass, and smoke rose gently from a few small fires that had burned through the night.
The Captain stood at the edge of the clearing, arms folded, watching as his men worked.
Axes struck wood in rhythm. The sharp crack of logs splitting echoed across the field. Some soldiers dug shallow trenches for support beams, while others carried bundles of cut timber toward the half-built huts.
"Hey, hand me that rope!" one of the men shouted, his voice rough but cheerful.
Another tossed it over with a grin. "You mean this rope, or the one you lost last time?"
Laughter rippled through the camp.
"Oi, don't remind me!" the first man groaned, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Captain made me dig half the trench alone for that!"
From nearby, Albert balanced a plank of wood over his shoulder — far too heavy for his small frame — but his face shone with pride.
"Don't worry, I'll get this one in place! I'm stronger than I look!"
"Careful, Albert!" a senior soldier called out, half-smiling. "You'll break your back before the hut's done!"
The younger one laughed breathlessly, struggling to steady the wood. "Then I'll crawl the rest of the way — but I'll finish it!"
The Captain watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. Around him, soldiers worked side by side — some sawing wood, others mixing mud for the walls, their laughter carrying softly through the morning air.
Every nail struck, every wall raised, felt like a promise being built piece by piece — a promise of shelter, of safety, of hope.
By the fifth hour, several small huts stood upright along the edge of the clearing — simple wooden shelters, their roofs covered in rough bark and woven reeds. The smell of fresh-cut pine and earth filled the air.
Albert leaned on his shovel, panting, his tunic soaked in sweat. "Captain," he said with a grin, "it's not much yet, but… it's starting to look like a real village."
The Captain nodded slowly, his eyes scanning the row of huts. "It's more than that, Albert," he said quietly. "It's a beginning."
A gentle breeze passed through the clearing, carrying the sound of hammering, laughter, and the quiet hum of life — proof that even after war and loss, something good could still be built from the ruins.