The morning mist had begun to lift by the time they reached the base of the forest trail.
Sunlight spilled through the thinning trees, casting soft gold across the rooftops and stone chimneys that slowly emerged from the haze.
Mermaid’s Cove—the quiet fishing town nestled by the sea—was waking up. Smoke drifted from chimneys, shop doors creaked open, and early risers murmured to one another as they unloaded crates from carts.
Down the hill came an unusual group: a girl with a basket, a prince in fisherman’s clothes, a quiet butler, and the mercenary group known as Silver Fang.
Kael walked a few steps ahead, his back straight, eyes calmly sweeping the street.
One hand hovered near the inside of his coat—not out of fear, but out of habit, the kind born from too many close calls in shadowed alleys.
“I need to stop by the Adventurer’s Guild,” he said over his shoulder. “Left a letter there.”
“A letter?” Lucien asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I was going to send it to Elmhurst,” Kael replied without turning. “To renegotiate our deal. But I suppose that won’t be necessary anymore.”
Mira gave a soft chuckle. “No, it won’t.”
Cassian, walking just behind her, smirked faintly but said nothing.
As they reached the town square, they passed the old stone fountain.
Seagulls perched along the edge like watchful statues. Children stopped mid-play to stare wide-eyed at Lucien, and townsfolk gave Mira lingering glances—some with quiet awe, others with concern—but no one approached.
Soon, the Adventurer’s Guild came into view. It was a wide, low building, its wood darkened by years of salt and sea air. A weathered sign above the door swung gently in the breeze.
“So... this is Mermaid’s Cove’s Adventurer’s Guild, huh?” Rook let out a low whistle, then glanced at Mira with a grin. “I bet you’re pretty famous around here.”
“I’d rather not be,” Mira sighed.
“Don’t be shy, Saintess-san,” Rook said, scratching the side of his nose. “If I were you, I’d be soaking up the glory.”
The front door groaned as they stepped inside. Warmth greeted them—along with the scent of firewood, parchment, and a hint of ink and oil.
Inside, the guild was already busy.
Adventurers sat around long tables, eating, sharpening blades, or reviewing worn maps. Heads turned when the door opened—then turned again when they saw Mira and the strangers with her.
Behind the front desk, a woman with glasses sorted through papers with practiced speed.
Kael strode directly to her. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice even. “I left a letter yesterday under the name Kael. But I need it back now.”
The woman, Lana, finally looked up, her gaze assessing him in a single, swift glance. “Kael of Silver Fang?”
He gave a slight nod.
Lana turned, retrieved a sealed parchment from a shelf, and placed it on the counter. Her expression was perfectly neutral. “Here you go. But there's still a fee of thirty copper.”
Kael paid the coins and retrieved the letter without a word.
Then came Mira. She greeted with a smile. “Good morning, Lana.”
Without looking up, Lana replied, “You’re late.”
Mira blinked. “Late for what?”
Lana finally looked up, adjusting her glasses. “Master and Captain Alric left with a squad of city guards. They’ve gone to the Elmhurst estate.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. Cassian’s hand shifted slightly toward his belt.
Kael let out a quiet breath. “So that’s why they were gearing up earlier,” he muttered. “I thought they were coming for us.”
“When did they leave?” Mira asked, stepping closer.
“Just after sunrise,” Lana said. “Master asked for all our records on Elmhurst’s properties, then left without saying much.”
Rook frowned. “Why are they headed there? Something wrong?”
Leila folded her arms. “Elmhurst has an estate here too? That’s... unexpected.”
Mira turned back to Lana. “Did they say when they’d return?”
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Lana shook her head. “No. But Master left a message for you. Said if you’re available, he’d like you to join them.”
Then—for the first time—her gaze moved to Lucien, her expression sharp with interest. “So... I’m guessing you’re the prince everyone’s whispering about?”
Lucien gave her a polite, unreadable smile. “Something like that.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Cassian spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “We should go, Mira-san. Perhaps your father actually needs your help.”
Mira gave a small nod. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She turned without hesitation, already moving toward the door. “Let’s go.”
The others followed, boots echoing lightly against the wooden floorboards.
Kael caught up beside her. “Are we expecting trouble?”
“I hope not,” Mira said. “But life usually doesn’t give you what you hope for.”
Cassian walked just behind them, his tone even. “We should arm ourselves.”
“Yeah, I could really use an extra crossbow,” Leila added, falling into step. “Just in case we’re walking into a wolves’ den.”
Rook adjusted his cloak with a sigh. “Oh, come on, Leila. You’re overthinking again. Look around you—it’s a fishing town.”
“But even fish bite sometimes,” Grey said flatly.
Lucien gave a soft chuckle. “Can’t argue with that.”
Mira paused, then pointed to a door down the east hall. “The training arena is that way. You should be able to find serviceable gear there. The guild won’t mind, under the circumstances.”
“What about you?” Lucien asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I need my own gear,” Mira said, already backing away. “I’ll meet you all at the Northgate in thirty minutes.”
Lucien gave a nod, though his golden eyes lingered on her, worry flickering in their depths. “Be careful.”
“I always am,” she said with a small, reassuring smile, then turned and disappeared into the bustling square.
The room fell into a brief hush after she left, broken only by the creak of wooden beams overhead.
Then—Cassian straightened his posture. “Your Highness. The training arena’s this way.”
He led the group through the east hall, past empty notice boards and old bounty posters.
The door at the end creaked open to reveal a long, barn-like space with open racks of weapons, padded armor, dummies, and a sand-floored sparring ring.
Sunlight slanted in through high windows, catching dust in the air. The arena was quiet, save for the sound of footsteps and the distant crash of waves outside.
Leila immediately made her way to the racks, pulling down a worn but serviceable crossbow and checking the tension. “This one’ll do.”
Rook wandered to the wall and picked up a seasoned wooden sword. A small one, fit for a child. “I bet Saintess-san practiced with this when she was little.”
Grey took his time, walking slowly along the weapon racks, then selected a short sword and slid it halfway from its sheath.
He nodded once, satisfied, and strapped it to his belt.
Lucien stood apart for a moment, gaze lingering on the sparring circle. “So... this is where her father taught her, huh?”
Kael added, “He must be a hell of a teacher.”
Cassian nodded, selecting a pair of curved blades from a shelf. “She was brought up well—better than most noble ladies in the capital.”
Leila slung a quiver of bolts across her back. “I never liked noble ladies.”
Rook grinned. “You’re just jealous because they get to wear fancy dresses.”
Kael gave him a glance, serious but measured. “Get your gear, Rook. We don’t have all day.”
“Yes, boss.” Rook gave a lazy salute.
The group fell into a steady rhythm, the quiet clink of buckles and the soft rustle of leather filling the training hall.
No one spoke much after that.
Each person focused on their gear—testing weight, adjusting straps, checking edges—lost in their own thoughts.
Outside, gulls cried faintly over the sea, and the wind pushed through the high windows like a whisper of things to come.
Whatever waited at the Elmhurst estate, they would face it prepared.
And together...
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