SILVER PRINCE | REN KOUEN

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THERE IS A TRAITOR IN OUR CAMP. SORRY.

Eight words. She wrote eight words in a piece of paper she passed on to him, as the declaration of her loyalty to him. And he was aware that she was trying to save Nikias from whatever dark cloud she found distorting his weak mind. She wanted a peaceful end to a war he wanted to finish with a single wave of his sword, but he had the patience to wait. The conflict would end one way or another, but it would end the same—in the Kou Empire's favor.

It annoyed him that she apologized. All she did was say "Sorry." She'd apologized for her own existence if she though it necessary, which reminded him that he'd need to ask her how she'd managed to defend herself against that magician's blast. He'd caught her midair, a little delayed as the magician had targeted him specifically and because he assumed she would extend her protection to his wife, but that hadn't occurred and at the last minute, in the split second of impact, he thought he'd seen the blast hit a wall. The resulting hit sent her off the bridge.

She was ordinary. He heard that once before. He never thought to ask if she was anything but because the world was filled with more ordinary folk than it was of magicians and Dungeon Capturers and the like. There were strange beasts and phenomenal powers and magi that exceeded all expectations. Out of the ordinary people existed, and as far concerned as he was, they naturally gravitated to one another—eventually.

Asta was an ordinary girl. A naive, annoyingly apologetic girl that would eternally seek the good in people—an emotion within them to latch onto until they were ready to give in to her stride.

And yet, he had his doubt and a nagging feeling that his marriage to Asta was not something he, himself, had entirely decided. It struck him as strange that his decision only met with the objection of his brothers and sisters, all assuring him that his marriage should be to someone of a more elevated status, not a nobody princess from a small island kingdom. He expected his father to question him about it, but he'd received instant approval. He believed that his father had seen the advantages of the island, but he suspected that might not have been the whole truth.

Kouen stared back at the message and covered it with his hand when Egil Vång entered his tent, his face covered in ash from hours of welding swords in front of a fire. He wore a cloak to hide his identity as he had ordered all Ionian soldiers to be secured in their prisoner's camp with those they captured from Corrin. He planned to draw Nikias out again to have him detained, but he'd been working out Asta's message, wondering if their traitor had gone with her or stayed with him.

"What is it?" he asked, watching the man catch his breath.

"We've been ambushed by the Hassahan army! They've destroyed two of our hidden ships!"

He had been waiting for the other kingdoms to take up arms. He was only shocked that Hassah had been the first to strike, being one of the furthest kingdoms from Corrin.

Kouen rose from his seat, taking his sword in one hand while crushing Asta's message in the other. He exited his tent a few steps after Egil when something crashed into the ground several feet in front of them. As the thick cloud of darkness slowly disappeared with the wind, Kouen caught a glimpse of gold against brown skin before a golden light engulfed the person standing before them. A laugh emerged from within the smoke.

Egil stepped back, away from a man sheathing a scimitar with the eight-pointed star carved on the metal. The dark-haired male had a gold ring in each finger and several necklaces hung from his neck. He dressed in dark shades, black trousers with a patterned shirt under a gold-trimmed kaftan.

He never thought he would encounter a Dungeon Capturer in the Byzen Cluster.

"Prince Melik," uttered Egil.

"I'm looking for the little princess." Melik grinned widely as his eyes swept from Egil's surprised expression to Kouen's calm countenance. "Or, Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire. Are you him?"

Kouen stared at him blankly. He kept his hand on the handle of his sword, ready to draw it if necessary. "And you are?"

"Prince of Hassah, Melik Buhari." He bowed with one knee pressed to the ground and held his sheathed scimitar in offering to him. "My sword and men are yours to command."

SILVER PRINCE | END