An old dude once told me, ‘In the darkest alley, when all hope seems lost, that’s when the most unexpected help emerges from the shadows, where desperation meets fate.’

I didn’t know where the safe path was, just that I had to keep moving. Running wasn’t exactly my thing. But when you’ve got three Silverlions on your tail, you find a way. Their armor clinked and boots pounded behind me. Stopping wasn’t an option if I wanted to see another sunrise or enjoy the sweet ale running down my throat. Now and then, I risked a glance back. Yep, those bastards were still there, relentless as ever.

The alleyways twisted and turned, a hellish maze designed to trap idiots like me. I was pretty sure I had lost them for a moment. I ducked into a narrow passage, but no luck. Their shouts rebounded off the walls, closer than I’d like. Desperation clawed at my throat. I had to do something, anything, to slow them down. Up ahead, a stack of crates. Maybe they’d give me a bit of a breather.

I slammed my shoulder into the crates while running. They crashed down on the soldiers’ path. The sound of splintering wood filled the air, and for a split second, I felt a small heave of satisfaction. But it was fleeting. The Silverlions weren’t stopped by something as simple as a few empty boxes. Curses flew out of their mouths. They barreled through the debris like they were enjoying the chase.

I veered left, then right, trying to think of a place to hide. But where? The town wasn’t exactly filled with safe hideouts for someone like me. Were there any possibilities? The Royal Rose? No, they’d find me there in seconds. The old church? Maybe, but it was too far. My little mansion? Yeah right, might as well hand myself over on a silver platter.

Why the hell were they after me, anyway? Catherine’s orders? Was it because I brought Jitters to the lunch reception to give her the jitters? But then again, nothing would surprise me anymore. Maybe she had decided I was an uncontrollable Stormbourne, something that needed tying up or cutting off before marrying into my family. Was this how it was going to end? Cut down in some stinking alley by a bunch of puffed-up soldiers?

The thought barely has time to settle before they find me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see them, and the chase is back on. Legs burning, lungs screaming; please, just give me a break. But I can’t stop. Not yet. Not while there is still a chance, however slim.

But then it happened. My foot caught on something, a loose stone, a cursed piece of bad luck. I went down hard. The impact knocked the breath out of me. For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the darkening sky. So, this was it. End of the line. I didn’t see how I was getting out of this one. Unless some kind of miracle happened, I was pretty much screwed.

The Silverlions slowed as they closed in, smug satisfaction plastered all over their faces. One of them, a big guy, laughed seeing me sprawled on the ground. “Pathetic,” his voice dripping with disdain. “The son of the strongest swordsman in the kingdom, running away like a scared little rabbit. Why don’t you stand up and fight, boy? Or are you too much of a coward?”

I tried to buy time, though I didn’t have much of it. “What’s this about, huh? What did I do to piss off your lady? You’re really going to kill me in the middle of the street? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

The big guy snorted and took a step closer, his sword gleaming in the surrounding light. “She doesn’t need a reason to get rid of trash like you. Tonight, the fall of House Stormbourne begins.”

His words hit harder than I expected, but I couldn’t dwell on that now. I just needed a few more seconds, a little more time to think. But he wasn’t giving me that. He raised his sword, ready to finish me off, but then something made him hesitate. His eyes flicked away from me. A trace of doubt.

I followed his gaze, tilting my head to see what had caught his attention. Out of the shadows came a man. Or at least, what looked like one. He was probably in his forties, though life had clearly taken its toll. A worn gray cloak hung off his thin frame. His clothes weren’t much better, threadbare and stained from who knows what. He limped on his left leg, a cane in his right hand to help him along. A thin beard covered his chin, but what really stood out was the scar running down his left cheek, pale and jagged. A vagrant, most likely. Someone who’d been wandering the streets for far too long. And in his left hand, he clutched a half-empty bottle of wine, swaying slightly as he walked.

The Silverlions hesitated, clearly thrown off by the man’s sudden appearance. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person you’d expect to see in a place like this, especially at this hour. But there was something about him, something that made even the soldiers waver.

As for me? I wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe, but at that moment, I would take any chance I could get. So, there I was, staring up at this old dude, this vagrant who had shown up out of nowhere like some sort of miracle.

“Please… help me, sir,” I pleaded.

He looked down at me, eyes narrowing a little. There was something familiar in those eyes, something that reminded me of my father. That same calm look, the expression of someone who had seen more than enough battles and wasn’t easily rattled. He took another swig from his bottle, letting the wine drip down his chin before speaking. “Three grown men against one kid? That doesn’t seem quite right, now does it?”

The soldiers didn’t appreciate the comment. The big guy closest to me sneered and growled at the vagrant. “Don’t interfere, old drunkard. This isn’t your business.”

But the vagrant just laughed, like the threat was a joke. “And what if I want to butt in? What’re you gonna do about it?”

The soldier’s grip on his sword tightened. “Then you’ll die just like him,” he spat.

“So be it, then,” the vagrant replied, almost bored. The soldier nearest to him lunged forward, sword raised. But the vagrant was faster than I expected. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the wine bottle at the soldier’s head. It shattered on impact, sending the soldier stumbling backward. Blood mixed with the cheap wine as it trickled down his face. And that’s when the real fight began.

The vagrant moved with an uncanny smoothness despite his raggedy appearance. His cane, once just a crutch, now pulsed with dark energy. The first soldier swung at his neck. The vagrant blocked it with the cane. There was a sharp clang, and the dark aura flickered along the cane, holding the blade off like it was nothing.

The second soldier came in fast, aiming for the vagrant’s side. But our vagrant? He sidestepped with grace, spun around, and brought the cane down on the soldier’s wrist. You could hear the bones crush. The sword fell from his hand, and before the soldier could react, the vagrant drove the cane into his temple. Down he went.

The third soldier circled, searching for an opening. But the vagrant wasn’t giving him one. He lunged forward, and the soldier tried to block. Foolish thoughts. The cane sliced through his defense, and blood poured from his chest as he fell back.

Seriously, can I believe this? A vagrant taking on three trained soldiers with just a walking cane. It’s like watching a master swordsman at work, but this guy doesn’t even need a sword. That leg he was limping on before? Yeah, it’s moving just as swiftly as the other. There was no limp, no sign of injury. And that cane… it’s something else. Every time it connects with a soldier’s sword, the dark aura flares up, and the metal seems to shudder, recoiling from the touch.

The last soldier standing? He’s got eyes wide with fear. He knows he’s outmatched. Drops his sword and tries to flee. But the vagrant? He’s not letting anyone get away. One swift, diagonal swing of the cane, and a torrent of dark energy slices through the air. It hits the fleeing soldier square in the back, and he goes down with a strangled cry, collapsing into the dirt. He didn’t move again.

I struggled to my feet, witnessing this one-sided kick in the ass. Soldiers scattered around me, their armor cracked, blood pooling beneath them. The wounds were deep, and the way the armor had been torn open… it wasn’t something any ordinary weapon could do. What the hell is that cane? More importantly, can I buy one in a store?

The vagrant cursed under his breath, shaking his head as he looked at the shattered remains of the wine bottle. “Damn it! Why the hell did I throw my last bottle of wine at that bastard?” He turned to me, his eyes narrowing. “Hey, kid! You got money?”

“Huh?” I blinked.

“Money! You know, gold, coins, whatever you’ve got. Hand it over.”

“Oh… yeah, sure.” I fumbled with my pouch, pulling out a handful of gold coins. My hands were still shaking as I passed them to him. He took everything, including the pouch, weighing it in his hand before shoving it into his cloak.

“You’d better get going, kid,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “This isn’t a place to be hanging around. Especially not for you.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Thanks, sir. I owe you one.” I turned and started running back toward the estate. I needed to warn everyone. Whatever was happening, it was bigger than me. And I had a feeling it was only just beginning.