"My Lady, are you sure this is the place?" Chase said as the trio made their way into the dark woods, the same place Sir Ivan had told them about. It was just far enough from the castle to be a day's ride off, but still near enough to keep Chase saying, "It's not too late, we can still turn back your majesty."

But Shelby would not be persuaded, and when they did reach the deep sides of the woods, Chase had long since given up trying to talk her majesty out of her quest.

The woods were littered with broken branches, rotted logs, and hoof prints that disappeared into thin air.

"Magic," Sir Riley said. "There's no doubt about it, King Sledge's minions were here, how else could these prints just vanish with no trace?"

"Perhaps," Chase said, "But if magic really is behind this, then how exactly are we to track them? How are we even to get our first real clue to their trail? For all we know, anything else we find here could be misdirection."

"True," Shelby said, "But it's better than nothing, and even still, magic does leave some kind of trail, does it not?"

"Aye," Riley said, "But only to those who understand its workings."

Sir Riley was one of the wisest knights in the kingdom, often Lady Morgan, and Princess Shelby sought after his counsel, but even his knowledge had limits, and magic was one of them.

"Phan out," Shelby ordered, "See if you can find more tracks, or perhaps some kind of cloth. Anything that might be useful, take note of it. We'll return to this spot in twenty minutes."

Both knights nodded, and headed in opposite directions. Their boots trudging through mud as they went. Shelby took a deep breath, and surveyed the land. She knelt down and ran her hands against the hoof prints in the dirt. It was clear, from both Sir Ivan's account, and the battle field that the struggle was immense. Prince Tyler could not have fought off King Sledge's forces, even if Sir Ivan had stayed to offer his aid. One thing was clear, King Sledge wanted the Prince.

But why? The kingdom was powerful, true, but Prince Tyler's kingdom was only one of the many ones that inhabited the lands. There were monarchs who were of even greater power than he, so why take the Prince? Was it out of a grudge? Some kind of warning signal to the other kingdoms? And if so, to what end?

"Your majesty." It was Sir Chase. Shelby turned to the east side of the wood, and saw both Chase and Riley sprinting towards her, a torn red cloak waving from Chase's hand. "We found something."

They handed Shelby the cloak, it was covered in filth, and torn in four different places, but there was no denying it was made from the rarest silk.

"It must have been the prince's." Shelby tucked the cloak away in her saddle bag. "So, what's our next move?"

"We could go to the neighboring towns," Chase suggested, "Perhaps they might know of something?"

"True," Riley concurred, "And even still, we may get more information. Magic only has the power to teleport short distances, so it's likely someone might have seen those villains."

Shelby nodded, "Then we shall be off."


The closest town was Muese, a small village that liked to think itself bigger than what it really was. While it boasted of big streets, and grand festivities, the place was quite crowded, and finding lodge for the night was difficult, even with Shelby's royal status. But the trio found their way, and found shelter at an Inn. And there, they mulled over their next step.

"No one in this town had even seen one of Sledge's minions," Chase said as he laid against his lodge bed. The Inn was cramped (almost as cramped as this stupid town). The floors were lined with hay, and the windows didn't even open.

"But we've gotta keep trying," Shelby said. They had come too far to simply give up now that a lead had (potentially) run dry. There had to be more avenues from which to search. "Perhaps we're asking the wrong questions? Instead of asking for definite answers, perhaps we could look into rumors? They often lead to results."

"Rarely, your majesty, rarely," Riley said, "More often than not they lead to more trouble than what they are worth."

In an instant, Sir Chase nearly leapt from the bed and out the door, "Alright, as fun as this is, and by fun I mean boring, I think it's time we got out for a bit. Cool our heels with a little revelry."

Sir Chase…always up for a good time.

"Are you mad?" Riley countered, "We've barely just begun and you want to go out chasing skirts now?"

And Sir Riley…ready to counter argue with every decision Chase made. Just like back at the castle.

"I'm just saying we could use some time to relax. Perhaps taking in the sights will ease us into a new way of looking at our situation."

And it was true, Sir Chase often times shrugged his responsibilities to have fun, but this time, he had a point.

"He's right," Shelby said, "A little fun in the town might help us come up with a new plan of action."

With an elongated sight, Riley folded to the will of the princess, "Yes my lady."

And the trio grabbed their coin purses, and ventured out into the city. They visited shops of silk, and taverns that played music far too loudly. Sir Chase got into arm wrestling matches to prove his mettle, Sir Riley visited the book stores and thumbed through old tomes.

And the Princess, despite her wanderlust, could not keep her mind off of the captured prince. She had heard stories of King Sledge's cruelty, and the very thought of Prince Tyler undergoing such torture made her-

"Step right up, come this way!"

Shelby stopped, around her hordes and hordes of people were shoving past, trying to get a glimpse at…something. Shelby moved a strand of hair from her face, and walked forward, following the crowd as they all surrounded a loud man, and a tarp covered moving cage.

"Yes," the man said, "Hurry, come see the marvel." He took a long staff and tapped the cage over and over. "The last savage of a lost tribe. Wiped away by King Sledge. This beast is the last of his kind, and now, here he is for all of you to marvel at." With one sharp pull, the tarp flew off the cage, and inside…sat a man.

Tall, and broad shouldered, the man squatted on what looked to be a broken stool. His chest was bare, and his hair was matted to his neck. The crowd gawked and hooted, and screamed.

"Look at that monster!" One of the women shouted, "Keep it away from the children."

"Yes," the man said, "This creature will snap your child's neck like a twig if given the opportunity. But rest assured," he slapped the metal bars with his staff, "This beast is not getting away."

And the crowed continued to cheer, and scream, and laugh, and take part in stories and jokes…but Shelby never did. All she could do was focus on the man being held inside of that cage. His body doubled over, and his breathing short and sparse.

And that look on his face. The same look Sir Ivan had when Shelby first met him, and the same look Prince Tyler must have had every day he awoke, only to realize he was someone's prisoner.

Hopelessness.