Days had passed since they had come across a proper settlement. Even the landscape had changed completely: the dense forests were long behind them, and now a vast mountain range stretched across the horizon, gray and stony against the open sky.

The place was large enough to be called a city. It overflowed with life and movement—merchants and buyers crossed the streets carrying fabrics, spices, cages of birds, and weapons wrapped in leather; voices overlapped in different languages, and the air was thick with dust, sweat, and hot food.

The group did not stand out among the crowd. Faces from distant and neighboring kingdoms blended naturally, some resembling their own, others strangely foreign. For the first time since leaving Diodain, Sven felt the relief of being able to disappear among people without being watched.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Dyro said, fixing his gaze on a tall building at the corner of the square. “Or our horses won’t make it to sundown.”

Sven nodded. Sleeping in a bed felt like a nearly forgotten luxury. He couldn’t understand how Nox and Dyro remained so unfazed by the conditions they had traveled in; he felt the accumulated exhaustion in every muscle.

Even so, the lively bustle of the merchant town stirred a spark of joy within him. There was something comforting about being surrounded by so many different faces, about knowing that here he could blend in among strangers and, for a moment, stop being a prince on the run.

They left the animals in the inn’s stables and entered the building. The ground floor was filled with tables, though only a few were occupied at that hour. The atmosphere was warm, and from what seemed to be the kitchen came a mouthwatering smell that reminded them how badly they needed to sit down.

Instinctively, they chose the table farthest from the others. None of the patrons seemed to pay them any attention—until a silver-haired woman approached to take their order. Her face was calm, marked by age, yet there was something strangely familiar in her features.

“Just here to eat?” she asked kindly.

“We’ll also be staying the night,” Sven replied, unable to stop observing her.

“I have a large room with four beds. You’ll rest well,” she said. “If it pleases you, my lord.”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

The woman nodded and returned behind the counter.

Minutes later, a young man about their age arrived with steaming plates of food. Sven immediately noticed the familiar traits: pale skin, a silver sheen in his hair, eyes that seemed to reflect a different kind of light.

The boy smiled, tucking a strand of silver hair behind his ear, tied into a loose side braid.

“It’s good to see fellow travelers from home around here,” he said, setting the plates down. “Where are you from?”

“Diodain,” Sven answered.

The young man let out a soft laugh, carrying something that wasn’t quite joy.

“Far from home, but closer to it at the same time, don’t you think?”

Sven looked up.

“How close is Delphen?”

“A few more days on horseback,” the boy replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he filled their mugs with ale. “My name’s Badra. And you?”

“Sven.”

Dyro kicked him sharply under the table.

“Just like—” Badra began, frowning, as if an uneasy thought had just formed in his mind.

“Hey, boy!” a middle-aged man’s voice cut in harshly. “Stop wasting time with customers or I’ll dock your pay.”

Badra immediately shrank back.

“Y-yes, sir,” he replied, bowing slightly before hurrying off to serve more drinks.

Sven followed him with his eyes, intrigued.

“Could you try not to make it so obvious?” Dyro muttered once the boy had moved far enough away. “Your face is already enough. Add a royal weapon and a floating pet, and you’re practically announcing it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sven replied under his breath.

“You shouldn’t be saying your name everywhere.”

“Hundreds of children were probably given that name when Sven was born,” Nox interjected calmly. “Especially in his kingdom.”

Dyro clicked his tongue, conceding to the logic.

They continued eating in silence, but Sven couldn’t stop watching that Delphenian family—the silver-haired woman and her two sons of different ages, moving between tables with a tired coordination. He wondered how many Delphenians, by choice or misfortune, were scattered across the continent, surviving far from what had once been their home.

He thought of how fortunate he had been.

Of the comforts he had known.

Of the happy future he had believed he deserved without ever questioning it.

Guilt gnawed at his chest for having done nothing before.

“Don’t,” Nox said suddenly.

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he replied without looking at him. “And I feel it too. But you couldn’t have done it any other way. Not then.”

Sven lowered his gaze. Nox always seemed to read his heart with unsettling clarity, and yet he still found a way to untangle his thoughts. He was more grateful to have him close than he dared admit out loud.

When they finished eating, Dyro stood.

“I’ll head into the city and gather information.”

Nox excused himself soon after, saying he would trade some potions for supplies.

Alone, Sven approached the man who seemed to be the owner of the inn. His expression was hard, almost hostile, but it softened when he noticed the luxury of Sven’s spear and the gleam of his coins.

“I hope the meal was to your liking, my lord. If there’s anything you need, just ask.”

“We’ve arranged a room for the night.”

“Of course, it’s already prepared. And if you need anything else to make your stay more… enjoyable…” the man cast a distasteful glance toward the staff. “Just say the word. We sell whatever you desire here.”

Sven felt a knot form in his stomach. Indignation rose like fire, but he kept his expression neutral. He thought for only a moment before answering:

“I want him to prepare a bath for me.”

He pointed at Badra. It was the first thing that came to mind—to get him away from prying eyes and listening ears.

The owner nodded without surprise, as if such a request were an everyday occurrence.

“I have a whole family of those at your disposal,” he said before turning to give orders.

Shortly after, a silver-haired boy guided Sven to the assigned room. There, he let Nébula rest. Badra then returned for him and led him to a more private, ornamented chamber, where a bath had already been prepared, steam rising softly in the dim light.

Sven remembered the last time someone had prepared a bath for him and thought it would be disastrous if something like that happened again here—but he felt more capable of controlling himself now.

The young man assisted him with practiced movements, adjusting the water to a pleasant temperature. Sven let his tired body sink into the tub, and relaxation washed over him immediately, as if the weight of the journey dissolved into the steam.

Do you require anything in particular, my lord?”

Sven looked at him, unable to stop himself from wondering how many things had been asked of that boy—and for how many years.

“I just wanted to talk. Do you live here with your family?”

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Yes. With my mother and my brother. We work in exchange for shelter and food.”

“Why didn’t you go to Diodain after the tragedy?”

“We thought that maybe one day we could…” he looked away, “…return to our land.”

Something warm and painful stirred in Sven’s chest.

“My father was a knight,” Badra continued. “He wanted to go back and fight the shadows for Delphen. But he lost a battle in the arena… and didn’t make it out alive. We stayed here.”

His hands moved nervously, and Sven noticed the marks on his forearm.

“Who did that to you?”

The boy flinched and stepped closer to help wash his hair. He spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, but at that distance, Sven heard every word.

“Not everyone who comes here is as kind as you, my lord.”

Sven’s heart tightened. He remembered Nox’s words: it couldn’t have been any other way.

“And the owner? How does he treat you?”

“He’s not as bad as he seems,” the boy replied. “We just… can’t afford to be idle. Still, I wouldn’t want to stay here forever.”

“What would you like to do?”

Badra poured warm, scented water over the foam, letting Sven’s silver strands shine again. He sighed. His green eyes drifted somewhere far away.

“I’d go back to Delphen with my family…” he said at last. “Where clear water runs through crystal channels, where pegasi fly at dawn, and where Zelene listens to our pain.”

His voice carried nostalgia—and a softness almost childlike.

“…and if it were possible…”

He let out a quiet scoff, as if mocking his own longing.

“If it were possible…?” Sven encouraged gently.

“I wanted to be a knight of the palace,” he admitted, bitterness slipping through.

Silence settled between them, heavy and respectful. Only the distant crackle of embers could be heard.

“When I heard your name, I got really excited,” the boy added as he helped him dry and dress. “What an honor, to be named after our prince. You should carry it with pride.”

Sven gave a faint smile.

“I’ll try.”

He returned to his room with more than a renewed body.

He carried in his chest a promise he did not yet know how to fulfill.

That night, Dyro returned to the room when the inn had quieted, leaving only distant murmurs in the halls. Dust clung to his boots, and his expression was tense, as if the city had told him nothing good.

“We have a problem,” he said, closing the door carefully. “There are dozens of warriors from different kingdoms here. Mercenaries. They gather in the arena to offer their services.”

Sven sat up in bed.

“Then we have to go tomorrow.”

Dyro snorted.

“Don’t get too excited. Even if we gave up every coin we have, it wouldn’t be enough to buy an army.”

Nox, who was sitting by the window, looked up.

“Not all warriors fight for money,” he said calmly. “Some fight for glory. Others for a cause worth remembering. If you offer more than coin… you might not have to buy them.”

Dyro glanced at him with distrust, but didn’t argue.

“We’ll see tomorrow,” he muttered at last. “For now, I need a bath too.”

He left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Sven remained silent for a moment, staring at the wooden door as if he could see through it. Then he spoke, quietly:

“Today… seeing those people… I understood I wasn’t wrong to come. Delphen still lives in those who remember it. And if they’re still waiting, I don’t have the right to give up.”

Nox watched him differently now—more intently, as if trying to memorize the moment.

“There’s no turning back for you anymore,” he said. “I know.”

He stepped a little closer.

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe on this journey.”

Sven returned a tired, grateful smile.

Nox looked away.

The flame of the lamp flickered for a moment, casting shadows that seemed to stretch along the walls—before everything returned to stillness.