The Arrival at Maxwell Estate

The rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed across the open road, the wind carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers. Two knights rode side by side, cloaked in the colors of their house, the weight of their mission pressing upon them like unseen chains.

“This is… an unexpected mission, my lord.”

The voice belonged to a burly knight atop a sturdy brown stallion, his armor reflecting the morning sun. His sharp eyes scanned the path ahead, wary of dangers unseen.

Beside him, riding a majestic black horse, was Ceasar Arkellis—a knight whose golden hair gleamed like sunlight against steel, his emerald eyes burning with quiet intensity. With a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and the effortless grace of nobility, he was considered the most handsome man in the kingdom. But beyond his looks, he was a warrior—a grand cross knight and heir to Count Franklin Arkellis of Lokswick.

“Yes, Jugo,” Ceasar replied, his voice smooth yet unreadable. “Finding the heir of Loistava… an incredible mission indeed.”

Jugo exhaled. “I still can’t believe it. If this is truly the lost prince… the kingdom could change overnight.”

Ceasar’s hands tightened on the reins.

“Keep your voice down,” he ordered in a sharp whisper.

Jugo blinked. “There’s no one around.”

Ceasar shot him a hard look. “It doesn’t matter. No one outside this mission can know. Not even our own men. If the wrong ears catch wind of this, do you have any idea what could happen?”

Jugo stiffened, glancing back at the knights riding behind them, oblivious to their conversation. He swallowed.

“Right. Of course.” He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forget how dangerous this mission really is.”

Ceasar exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed ahead. “Dangerous isn’t the right word.” His voice darkened. “If Logan finds out before we do, this boy won’t live long enough to see another sunrise.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then Jugo, always the fool, smirked. “You know, I can’t decide what you’re more serious about—the mission… or Princess Helga.”

Ceasar nearly stumbled in his saddle. “Jugo.”

Jugo’s grin widened. “I mean, come on, my lord. You barely reacted when we were sent on this impossible quest, but the second I mention Helga—”

A sharp kick landed against Jugo’s leg.

He howled. “Ahhh! My lord, this is abuse—!”

“You will be abused further if you continue,” Ceasar grumbled, his ears burning red.

Jugo laughed like a quacking duck, rubbing his bruised leg.

But as the towering gates of Maxwell Estate came into view, Ceasar’s smile faded.

Duty first. Always.

A Queen’s Request

Catherine sat by the window, the golden light of the setting sun casting a soft glow upon her elegant yet battle-hardened face. Though once the Queen of Loistava, the years of exile had only made her sharper, stronger, more dangerous.

Ceasar knelt before her, his head bowed in respect. “Your Highness, I am Ceasar Arkellis, eldest son of Count Franklin Arkellis of Lokswick. It is my greatest honor to serve as your shield on this quest. Until my contract ends, my sword is yours.”

Jugo followed suit, kneeling beside him. “I am Jugo Krik, knight companion to Grand Cross Knight Ceasar Arkellis. I swear my loyalty to my lord and to your cause, Your Highness.”

Catherine studied them both before nodding. “Rise.”

They obeyed.

“I am grateful to have two loyal and skilled knights by my side. However…” She set down her teacup and smiled knowingly. “This mission does not belong to me.”

Ceasar blinked. “Your Highness?”

Catherine leaned back, folding her hands gracefully. “This journey belongs to my daughter, Helga. She is the one leading this expedition.”

Ceasar’s heart skipped a beat.

Helga.

Catherine continued, her voice calm but firm. “I am sure the King’s letter outlined the details of this mission, but allow me to explain further.”

She gestured to a maid, who quickly served tea to the knights and Arellano. Ceasar accepted the drink, his movements precise and respectful.

“Your parents have raised you well,” Catherine remarked, watching him closely. “By appearance, you take after your father, but your grace and courtesy are Mary’s.”

Ceasar’s chest tightened at the mention of his mother.

Catherine smiled, a rare softness in her expression. “Mary wasn’t just a noblewoman. She was my closest friend. My classmate. We learned together, trained together. We were practically sisters.”

Ceasar listened intently.

“Franklin, Mary, and I were inseparable. We caused chaos at the academy, sneaking out at night, stealing wine from the kitchens, challenging the boys to duels.” A nostalgic chuckle escaped her lips.

Ceasar smiled faintly. “Mother never spoke of those days.”

Catherine sighed. “She was always the steady one, wasn’t she? I was the troublemaker, Franklin was the dreamer, and Mary…”

Her gaze turned distant.

“She was the heart.”

Ceasar felt a lump in his throat.

“I was the one who arranged their wedding,” Catherine admitted. “Franklin was too nervous, and Mary was too proud to admit she wanted it. So I made it happen. I thought… we’d always be together.”

She exhaled.

“But then, duty called. I was wedded to Willard and sent away to Loistava. I left everything behind—including them.”

Ceasar bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Highness… for telling me this.”

Catherine smiled, but then, her voice hardened.

“Now. Let us speak of the boy we must find.”

The Past Never Leaves

That night, long after the meeting had ended, Ceasar stood alone in the gardens.

The wind whispered through the trees.

And though he had fought against it, his mind drifted back to her.

To the girl in yellow.

To the woman she had become.

To the future she was fighting for.

He exhaled, closing his eyes.

"When the time comes… will I have the courage to ask her… ‘Will you marry me, my lady?’”

But the wind stole his words before they could leave his lips.

Because some things were never meant to be spoken aloud.

And love, for a knight and a princess, was one of them.

(To Be Continued…)