Chapter 187: Running Toward Chaos

On the other side of the castle, a squad of elite mages and swordsmen raced through the winding corridors, their boots pounding against ancient stone. The oppressive aura growing stronger with every step pressed against them like an invisible weight—the unmistakable signature of something ancient and malevolent.

Lyra Ashford stumbled, her small frame struggling to keep pace with the longer strides of the knights surrounding her. Her oversized robe, embroidered with the insignia of the Royal Mage Corps, flapped behind her like wings too large for her body. Sweat plastered her braided red hair to her forehead, and her staff—a beautiful thing of polished white wood topped with a crystal that pulsed with soft light—threatened to tangle between her feet.

"Wait... wait!" She gasped, doubling over as they reached a junction. "I need a moment! Just... one moment!"

Reimos Vex skidded to a halt, his black hair whipping across a face carved from stern duty. His hand never left the hilt of the sword at his waist, his dark eyes fixed on the corridor ahead where shadows seemed to writhe unnaturally.

"No stopping," he barked, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We’re in the middle of a crisis, mage. The king’s orders were clear—secure the source of that aura immediately."

Aldric, a younger knight with earnest eyes and a perpetually worried expression, stepped closer to his captain. His voice dropped to a murmur meant only for Reimos.

"Captain... this entire situation has Prince Valdris written all over it." He glanced around, ensuring no one else could hear. "He’s been in that tower for hours with the Melium princess. And now this?"

Reimos’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I’m aware." His voice carried the weight of long experience with royal complications. "The First Prince is away fighting demons, and the Second sees every opportunity as a chance to prove himself." He shook his head slowly. "He never learns."

Lyra, who had managed to straighten despite her exhaustion, caught the tail end of their exchange. Her pale cheeks flushed with indignation.

"Don’t speak of His Highness that way!" She clutched her staff tighter, her voice sharp despite her breathlessness. "Prince Valdris has always acted in the kingdom’s best interests. If he’s involved, there must be a reason."

Reimos fixed her with a flat stare. "The ’reason’ is usually his ambition, mage. Now save your breath for running." He turned and resumed his pace, forcing the others to follow.

Lyra scrambled after them, her small legs pumping to keep up. The aura grew heavier with each step, pressing against her senses like a physical weight.

Lyra’s subordinate—a sharp-eyed young man named Nei—suddenly stiffened, his hand shooting up in a warning gesture. His magical senses, always keener than most, had caught something in the chaos around them.

"Wait!" Nei’s voice cut through the pounding of boots against stone. "I detect someone approaching. Coming from the side corridor."

The squad skidded to a halt, weapons rising in unison. Reimos’s sword slid from its sheath with a whisper of steel, his dark eyes fixed on the shadowed passage ahead. Lyra gripped her staff, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as adrenaline flooded her system.

A figure emerged from the darkness—disheveled, breathing hard, glasses perched precariously on a sweat-sheened face.

Gill froze mid-step as he found himself facing a wall of armed royal soldiers.

’Ah.’ His grey eyes widened behind those gleaming lenses. ’This is going to be troublesome.’

He didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran.

"STOP!" Reimos’s voice thundered through the corridor. His boots slammed against stone as he gave chase, sword held ready. "Stop, or I’ll cut you down where you stand!"

Gill’s legs pumped, his lungs burning with exertion he hadn’t recovered from. ’Why do these things always happen to me?!’

Nei’s voice rose above the chaos, recognition dawning in his tone.

"That man! I recognize him!" He pointed at Gill’s retreating form. "He’s a notorious fraud! Wanted for burning down the Royal Library and murdering one of the kingdom’s most respected researchers—the one they called the Archivist!"

Lyra’s eyes widened. "The Archivist? But that would mean—"

"His name is Gill," Nei continued, his voice grim. "He was the Archivist’s own student. And he killed his master."

Reimos’s sword caught the dim light as he closed the distance, his longer legs eating up the gap between them.

"You have nowhere to run, murderer!"

Gill’s expression, visible for just a moment as he glanced back, was a complicated mix of exhaustion, exasperation, and something that might have been grief.

"Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t my fault?" His voice was breathless, but that sardonic edge remained.

Reimos’s answer was to swing his blade.

Gill twisted, the blade passing close enough to ruffle his disheveled hair. He stumbled back, hands raised in surrender, his chest heaving.

"Wait, wait! Hold on!" His voice cracked with desperation. "Don’t you have something more important to deal with right now?!"

Reimos’s blade swept forward again, forcing Gill to dodge once more. "Criminals don’t get to speak." His dark eyes held no mercy. "You burned the Royal Library. You murdered the Archivist—your own teacher. There is no excuse for such filth."

The other knights moved to flank him, weapons drawn, expressions grim. Lyra’s staff began to glow, her magic gathering for a binding spell. Nei circled left, cutting off escape.

Gill’s grey eyes darted around, calculating angles, odds, options. All of them bad.

’This is going to be dangerous,’ he thought, sweat beading on his forehead.

He reached into his coat—slowly, carefully, making sure everyone could see his movements.

"Wait! Wait!" His fingers closed around the folded parchment. "I have a contract! A written, magically binding contract with Commander Reinfort! Look!"

He thrust the document into the air, the yellowed paper catching what little light filtered through the corridor’s high windows.

Reimos’s sword hesitated mid-swing. His dark eyes narrowed as he studied the parchment—and the signature at the bottom.

"That seal..." His voice dropped, disbelief creeping into his tone. "That’s Commander Reinfort’s personal mark."

Aldric stepped closer, his face twisted with suspicion. "Captain, don’t be fooled! He’s a fraud—a master of deception! He could have forged it!"

Gill’s expression twisted with exasperation. "Look at it properly, you idiot! Magical contracts can’t be faked that easily. The binding energy is right there—can’t you feel it?"

Lyra pushed forward, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Her staff pulsed as she extended her senses toward the document. Her eyes widened.

"It’s... it’s real." Her voice was barely a whisper. "The contract is genuine. How...?"

Reimos’s grip on his sword tightened. His jaw worked, conflicting emotions warring across his stern features.

"That can’t be right." He shook his head slowly. "Commander Reinfort would never—"

Aldric’s voice rose, sharp with indignation. "Impossible! Master Reinfort would never agree to a contract with a murderer! This has to be some kind of trick!"

Gill let out a long, exaggerated sigh—the sound of a man whose patience had been thoroughly exhausted.

"Believe what you want. But if you stand here arguing with me much longer, that aura you’re all rushing toward is going to claim a prince, a princess, and your precious Commander Reinfort." He tucked the contract back into his coat, meeting Reimos’s gaze with flat, grey eyes. "So. Are you going to keep waving that sword at me, or are you going to do your jobs?"

Nei—the sharp-eyed young mage—nodded reluctantly, his earlier suspicion giving way to grim practicality.

"As much as I hate to admit it, that man has a point." He glanced toward the corridor where the oppressive aura continued to pulse, each wave heavier than the last. "We can’t afford to delay any longer. Whatever’s happening up there is getting worse by the second."

Lyra straightened, her grip on her staff tightening. Despite her exhaustion, despite the sweat still cooling on her skin, her voice carried the weight of royal authority.

"Hey, knight!" She fixed Reimos with a pointed stare. "Don’t just stand there gaping. We need to move—now. This criminal can wait. Saving the prince and whoever else is up there cannot."

Reimos’s jaw worked, conflict evident in his dark eyes. Then, with a sharp motion, he slammed his sword back into its sheath. The sound echoed through the corridor like a period at the end of a sentence.

Gill let out a visible breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. ’Thank the gods...’

"Fine." Reimos’s voice was clipped, controlled—the voice of a man swallowing his pride for the greater good. "But you’re coming with us, criminal."

Gill blinked. "What? Why?!"

Aldric stepped forward, his expression hard and unyielding. "We need to verify whether that contract is genuine. The only way to do that is to ask Commander Reinfort directly." He gestured down the corridor, toward the source of the horrific aura. "So you’ll come with us, quietly and obediently. Try to run, and I’ll personally ensure you don’t make it three steps."

Gill opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He looked at the wall of armed soldiers, at the grim determination on their faces, at the utter lack of sympathy in their eyes.

Then he thought of the alternative—being left here alone, surrounded by enemies, with no one to vouch for him and a murder charge hanging over his head.

"...Fine." The word came out heavy with resignation. "But when we get there and find your precious commander in pieces, don’t blame me."

Reimos’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He simply turned and resumed his pace toward the chaos, leaving Gill to follow or be left behind.

Lyra fell into step beside Nei, her staff glowing softly as she prepared for whatever awaited them. Her voice was quiet, meant only for her subordinate.

"Keep an eye on him. If he so much as twitches wrong..."

Nei nodded, his gaze fixed on Gill’s back. "Understood."