Deep beneath the Capital Castle, sealed away from sunlight and suspicion, a narrow chamber held its breath in silence. The only light flickered from a single lantern hanging crooked above a desk. Captain Bellatrix sat there, elbows on the table, her chin resting heavily in one hand while the fingers of the other drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm against the wooden surface.
Ashes—the last remains of paper—lay scattered before her like broken truths. They were still faintly warm. Evidence destroyed just moments before her arrival. Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, flicked toward the blackened curls of parchment.
The door creaked open. Footsteps echoed against the cold stone floor, deliberate and paced. Bellatrix didn't look up.
"What do you see?" she asked, her voice quiet, firm—like ice forming over a lake.
"Ashes," came the reply, deep and edged with frustration. "Left behind to hide something."
There was a pause before the voice continued. "Unauthorized document. No signature. But it mentioned a squad. Dispatched the day the prince went missing."
Bellatrix's hand stopped moving. Her brows furrowed, lips tightening into a scowl. "Where?"
"The Crimson Dragon Highlands," the voice replied, now low and simmering with anger.
Bellatrix exhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment as if holding back a curse. Then her command came without hesitation. "The Elites have already left. Theran, without delay, go to the Highlands. Go alone. I want no casualties. Do not, under any circumstances, make the dragon our enemy."
No further words were exchanged. The figure—Therryn—turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows with the silence of a trained blade.
The door closed. Bellatrix's fingers resumed their slow tapping, but her mind now spun faster than ever.
---
A soft wind brushed through the outer edges of Lontara as twilight crept across the sky.
"So… how exactly did you get me out of the city?" Ascalon asked, glancing sideways at Reika, who walked ahead of him with a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.
"Just follow me," she replied casually, waving him forward as she ducked into a narrow alleyway that twisted and turned like a forgotten trail on an old map.
At the end of the path, half-hidden beneath the stone wall of the city, stood a small tavern. Its exterior was worn, like it had been leaning there for centuries, unnoticed and untouched.
Ascalon raised an eyebrow. "This is your master plan?"
"It always starts with a tavern," Reika quipped.
They stepped inside. The interior was humble—wooden beams, a few creaky chairs, a crooked counter, and the unmistakable scent of old ale.
"It looks… normal," the prince's voice rang in Ascalon's mind, filled with wary curiosity.
Reika didn't bother responding. She strode toward a dim corner where two men sat at a table, speaking in hushed tones. With practiced ease, she dropped a small bag of coins onto the table.
"Take us outside," she said with authority.
One of the men opened the pouch, peering inside, then nodded. The other stood silently and motioned for them to follow.
"This could be a trap," Volkrayn grumbled from within, his voice low and gravelly. "Keep your guard up."
Ascalon silently agreed, his fingers twitching near his card pouch.
They were led to a door at the back of the tavern, which opened into a small, unlit room. The air was musty. At the far wall, a jagged break cut into the stone like a wound.
"What is this?" Ascalon asked, stepping closer to the gap.
"A relic from an old battle," Reika explained, stepping beside him. "When they were rebuilding the wall, a merchant found the damage and decided to use it instead of fixing it. Built this tavern right over it."
She smirked. "Now it's our way out."
Ascalon stared into the passage beyond. "A real merchant never misses an opportunity…" he thought to himself. Then, with a breath and a nod, he followed Reika into the shadows, leaving the city—and its growing dangers—behind.
[Mission: Escape from Lontara – Complete.]
Light spilled across the world like golden paint as Ascalon stepped through the hidden passage. He squinted—eyes adjusting from the shadowed tunnel into the brilliance of a clear, sunny day.
Stretching before him was a dirt road winding through a sea of green. Trees whispered in the breeze, birds chirped merrily overhead, and in front of him, a modest wooden buggy sat waiting.
Two figures stood beside it.
"You're late," the mage girl stated flatly, crossing her arms. Her cold eyes narrowed slightly beneath her short bangs, her petite stature doing nothing to diminish the chill in her voice.
Before Ascalon could respond, the other girl—taller, more cheerful—waved it off with a sunny smile. "Oh, it's nothing! We've just been waiting here, baking like breadsticks!"
Ascalon took a step forward to greet them properly, but then—boing.
Two impossibly well-endowed assets bounced lightly as the cheerful girl turned to face him.
His gaze, guided by primal instinct, involuntarily dipped for just a split second.
Just a second.
But it was enough.
"STOP LOOKING AT THAT, PERVERT!" Volkrayn's voice thundered like a blast furnace inside his head.
Ascalon jolted, blinking as his soul almost left his body. "Guh—! It's not what it looks like!"
Recovering with Olympic-level speed, he pointed mentally toward his other roommate. "This is the prince's fault!"
"How is this my fault?" the prince protested, voice red with embarrassment.
"You! You and your young hormonal body! I've got two souls crammed in here and none of them come with a manual!" Ascalon huffed, flustered.
"Maybe if you didn't ogle everything that jiggles like jelly—"
"This is my new bodyguard and friend, Ascalon."
As Ascalon sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, Reika turned to the two girls and began giving them the basics—his Adventurer rank, a vague mention of his skill with cards, and, wisely, nothing too detailed.
"Hey Ascalon!" she called out as she climbed onto the back of the cart. "What are you doing? Come on, we've got to hurry!"
Still grumbling something about "unfair accusations," Ascalon shuffled over and climbed up after her. As he settled beside her on the cart, he leaned closer and asked in a lower tone, "Can I ask now? What's the secret passage or route you were talking about?"
Reika turned her head quickly, pretending to admire the passing clouds. "Ascalon, why don't you make some friends, huh? Like those two lovely girls?"
"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath. "That's an Olympic-level dodge. I swear, if this route leads to another near-death experience…"
Inside, the prince sighed. "I wonder what's happening in the castle right now."
As the cart rolled forward under the sunlight, its wooden wheels creaking along the worn path, laughter, suspicion, and unanswered questions all traveled with them—bound for the next chapter of destiny.