‘Dammit!’

  ‘Dammit it all!’

  Raen ran.

  Screams of men and horses echoed around him, but he just ignored them.

  His legs burned as he pushed through the camp, Kaelen and the others sprinting behind him. Orange flames licked at the night sky ahead, at the Prince’s tent.

  The Prince’s tent had been erected a mile and a half from Commander Klaos’ position. Temporary quarters because Arandil refused to travel back today.

  By the time they arrived, it was already an inferno.

  The heat hit them from twenty meters away. The Prince’s tent was gone, not burning, but turned into a pillar of flame that roared like a living thing.

  Soldiers were running around in panic. Buckets of water were carried, most of which were spilled or hissed into steam before reaching the flames.

  Dense smoke enveloped all, choking the very air. The smell of burning flesh and silk palpable all around them.

  “Bring water from the well, hurry up!” One officer screamed.

  “Form a line!” another contradicted. “A bucket chain, you fools!”

  “What are you waiting for?! Go put the fire out!”

  A series of contradictions could be heard, coming from the frightened officers who dared not think what would happen to them if the Prince were to perish in the fire.

  The roar of the inferno threatened to swallow all, and Raen stood still, able to do only so much.

  ‘The most capable amongst the Regiment Commanders is already dead, and now the Prince as well?’ Raen dared not think too much of it. This didn’t happen in his previous life; those two were fated to die later.

  The death of Regiment Commander Klaos was a heavy blow to the entire army, enough to cause disarray for days. He was the one responsible for most of their battle plans, most of which were written in the documents in his burning tent.

  Enemy capabilities, possible courses of action, tactical responses – it was all there.

  Now it was all gone.

  But if the Prince, who had decided to stay for the night in their regiment, died as well…

  Then the war could be considered lost already. Military hierarchy would be in shambles, the morale of the troops would drop to its lowest, and they would be easy pickings for Azurand.

  As Raen stood in front of the inferno. Kaelen and the others were right next to him, staring in disbelief.

  Then, as if he had been waiting for them, a lone figure suddenly burst out from the flames.

  The roar of the inferno seemingly died down, and the shouts of the soldiers disappeared as everyone’s attention turned to the man who collapsed on the ground.

  “H – hurry.” The man weakly groaned, attempting to get up.

  “His … Majesty …”

  His strength gave out, and he fell down again, only this time slightly to the side, uncovering a second person underneath him.

  Prince Arandil.

  “Aide Longton!” A soldier quickly recognized the aide, and the rest immediately understood what happened, sprinting to get both the prince and the aide away from the inferno.

  Raen didn’t move a muscle; he just stared.

  The left half of the Prince’s face was burned, obviously in the inferno. Part of his royal garment was gone, the flames smothered by the aide most likely.

  The man had carried the Prince through the flames, risking his life and suffering grievous burns as a result.

  “Quickly, move the prince to safety!”

  “Medics, where are the medics?!”

  Shouts quickly filled the area as tens of officers and soldiers rushed to save the prince and his aide. Kaelen stared, a confused expression plastered across his face. His eyebrows were in a frown as he stared at his half-brother, who had passed out.

  “He’ll live.” Thatch softly spoke, observing the Prince as well. “The burns look worse than they are. Second-degree, mostly. That shouldn't be too difficult for the Mages to heal.”

  “You’re sure?” Kaelen asked, the former nodding in response.

  “His face will be scarred, a part of his body as well. But he’ll survive. I’m sure of that.”

  “Good, good!” Kaelen said, taking a deep breath. “It would be bad if he died. Very bad.”

  “But how did he survive?” Raen asked, the others glancing at him.

  “If the assassin wanted to kill him, would he really just light the tent on fire and leave things to fate?” He looked at Kaelen and the rest.

  “If I was the assassin and was unable to kill the Prince inside the tent, I’d wait for a perfect moment to kill him later,” Thatch added, shrugging his shoulders once the others glared at him.

  “I’m just saying.”

  “No, you’re right. This might not be over yet.” Raen’s hand moved to his sword.

  “Be on the lookout. Alert the men, the assassin might still be close.”

  Kaelen and Tarris quickly acted, making their way to the Prince. They shouted orders, quickly grabbing the attention of the soldiers.

  It only took them a few words to get them all in line. After all, the existence of an assassin who had already claimed the life of a Regiment Commander was to be taken with utmost care.

  The men formed a circle around the Prince and the aide, who were carried by a soldier each. All of them were tense, their weapons ready, glaring at anyone who came close to them.

  Medics soon arrived, and the two men were placed down on stretchers before quickly being escorted by everyone to the medical tent. Even though Thatch said the Prince would survive, that was with professional medical care taken into consideration.

  Without it, he might truly die.

  The soldiers quickly surrounded the medical tent, and Eric, who had arrived soon after, was petrified upon learning what had happened. He swiftly took control of the soldier after Kaelen talked to him.

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  He then ran over to Kaelen and the others, who were standing on guard nearby.

  “Sir, there were guards inside the tent. They would have all quickly escorted His Highness out when the fire started.”

  “You think they’re dead?” Raen asked, prompting the man to quickly nod his head.

  “From what the soldier said, the tent had quickly been set ablaze. The assassin probably used an accelerant.”

  He glanced at them before looking back to the tent. He was confused.

  “Longton came out 2 minutes later with His Highness. It doesn’t make sense.” Eric glanced around, nervous. “Something must have happened inside the tent. His Highness has been injured by a blade. A gash across his ribs, the doctors told me.”

  “Aide Longton is in an even worse state. He has multiple wounds across his body, several stab wounds from the back as well.”

  "Even the Mages who just arrived aren't sure he will survive."

  “You believe he received those when he was making his way out of the tent with His Highness?” Raen asked the aide, who again nodded in response.

  In his mind, even though Raen was a commoner who was ranked much lower than him, he was one of Kaelen’s men. That fact made their ‘unofficial’ ranks nearly the same.

  “That makes even less sense,” Thatch said from the side, his hand below his chin.

  “He should’ve been killed the moment he showed his back to the assassin.”

  “Longton is a highly skilled combatant,” Eric boasted. “A finalist in the Royal Tournament, he was probably able to –“

  “Tournaments have rules, throat-cutting doesn’t.” Thatch glanced at Eric. “The moment his back is turned to the enemy, he would have died, no matter how skilled your friend might be.”

  “They recovered multiple bodies from the burned-down tent of Commander Klaos. They were all burned beyond recognition. It would seem impossible for anyone to recognize any wounds on their bodies, but I can.” Everyone turned to Thatch, waiting for an answer.

  “Same wounds as the prisoner and guard back in the cell, a swift slash across the throat. He might not have had enough time to be perfect this time around as I noticed some damage to the vertebrae.”

  “So it was the same person.” Anderson sighed.

  “The soldiers around the tent heard nothing, and then Commander Klaos exited the tent, clutching his bleeding neck.” Thatch glanced toward the tent. “The tent caught fire after that.”

  “The assassin wanted people to know about him, so that the security around the Prince’s tent would be lowered for an instant. Is that what you’re implying?” Tarris asked.

  “Exactly, and their wish was fulfilled.”

  “So, you believe the assassin wanted the Prince to survive this?” Thatch sighed and nodded.

  “I know it sounds ridiculous. But yes, I think so.”

  “Why would anyone go through such trouble to just wound the Prince?” Eric’s eyes were doubtful. “Was their true goal Klaos?”

  “No, the assassin killed him before he struck His Highness, remember?” Raen told the aide before placing his hand beneath his chin, thinking, staring ahead, at the soldier moving around.

  The sounds around him dimmed. He no longer heard the people he was conversing with or the clamor around him.

  'What could they gain from this?'

  His jaw was clenched, and his mind confused. Just who was the enemy? Why would they do such a thing?

  'If they assassinated our army commander, then we would have retreated for sure, so why –'

  Raen stopped thinking, a revelation nearly upon him. He felt as if he just needed a few pieces of the puzzle to complete it.

  “My lord, the Invicto family will definitely try to undermine you. Garen is their shining star, after all.” Eric whispered to Kaelen, and thus the final piece of the puzzle was established for Raen.

  The Invicto family.

  Raen remembered them. They were amongst the first major families to have switched sides, fighting for Azurand in hopes of becoming more powerful.

  ‘If Garen is from the Invicto family, then the culprit is –‘

  Raen’s mind went blank.

  He stopped what he was doing and moved forward, his eyes locked ahead. All sound was still gone as his eyes were fixed in one direction.

  A man walked amidst the soldiers.

  He wore a soldier’s uniform that was slightly burned to the side.

  He was inconspicuous. His hair was short and brown, his face average in the truest meaning of the word, a face one would forget after seeing.

  But it was clean, compared to the others.

  He showed no sign of being injured or burned. He walked straight, his left leg following the right, struggling to match the pace.

  His eyes were placid, cold, and the way his hand rested on his hip …

  A memory flashed in Raen’s mind.

  A dossier had been given to the Bishops of the cult.

  ‘Identification mark: Posture. Right hand habitually braced, as if expecting recoil.’

  Raen knew him.

  And he now knew who was the one behind the assassinations.

  “Cassian.” The name was uttered without a single instant of hesitation.

  He was sure of it.

  The man he just saw for a brief moment, the man who disappeared in the crowd right away. He was the one who would later receive the title of ‘Ghost’.

  The cleaner of the Laurentis family.

  And the man he followed – the man he worshipped as a deity – was none other than the military strategist of Azurand. The genius amongst geniuses, Cassian di Laurentis, Lucien’s younger brother.

  “Raen?” Kaelen placed his hand on Raen’s shoulder, gently nudging him awake.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Y-yeah … I’m fine,” Raen said, exhaling sharply.

  “You were lost there. Mind sharing what you thought of?”

  ‘What I thought of?’ Raen repeated inwardly, scoffing to himself. ‘If I told you what I ‘realized’, then you would think me a madman.’

  “I believe this was done by Azurand.”

  “They wouldn’t dare, we signed a truce!” Eric jumped in an instant, staring at Raen with his eyes wide open.

  “Yes, and technically they haven’t broken it,” Raen answered. “No soldier of theirs moved; there was no attack done by them … none that we can prove.”

  “But why? Why would they do this? Attempt to assassinate His Highness and just leave it at that?” Eric asked as Raen chuckled.

  “Because it brings them a better advantage.”

  If Raen’s previous words had interested them all, now their full attention was on him. None of them could understand what he meant.

  “Think about it,” Raen stated as he leaned against a nearby post, his expression dark. “If they killed the Prince, then the army would definitely collapse and retreat in order to organize ourselves for future battles, to defend the positions behind us.”

  “And thanks to the truce, they would be unable to attack us. They’d be forced to watch as we fell back and organized a second defensive line.”

  Everybody nodded at his words.

  “But if the Prince is injured, then things are different.”

  “We can’t retreat; his injuries might worsen during the trip,” Tarris muttered, his eyes fixing on Raen. His expression remained grim, but he nodded, and Tarris understood.

  “Yes. And as the army commander, he holds the final decision.”

  “His Highness will survive and probably wake up in a day or two, after which he will become a different person.” Raen glanced at the medical tent. “He will be paranoid as he was nearly murdered. He won’t trust anybody.”

  “We’ve no proof that it was Azurand, and still have no idea just who the assassin was.”

  “Everyone becomes an enemy.” Raen glanced at Kaelen, who sighed.

  “He will believe it was me, won’t he?”

  “How could that be? We ran to help here right away!” Anderson shouted upon hearing Kaelen’s words, his voice shaky.

  “That’s exactly the point, he will believe I already knew of the assassination ahead of time. Knowing my brother, he might even believe I came to see his death.”

  Kaelen then sat down, taking a deep breath.

  “In mere minutes, the enemy has taken out our most capable commander. They’ve turned our army commander incapable of trusting his men, of giving the right orders.”

  He then chuckled. “And they drove a wedge between the two of us, perhaps forever placing us at odds with one another.”

  “He will probably separate you from all your men,” Raen stated. “That means my team and I will probably be sent further away, as will Major Anderson and Commander Tarris.”

  Eric watched in shock, his mind still not comprehending it all.

  “Do you really believe that such a tactic … could exist?”

  “I have long heard that Garreth Balor and Lucien di Laurentis were strategists that very few could equal,” Tarris stated as he placed his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Now I have confirmed the rumors aren’t exaggerated.”

  “You, aide, will probably experience great hardship soon. Good luck.”

  “We all will experience it, and then the enemy will strike, aware of our weakness.” Raen placed his hand on his forehead before closing his eyes.

  This was all he could do.

  Cassian was unknown to all.

  This war was his debut, the first impression that the tactical genius of the young man would be shown to the world. He would score an overwhelming victory against the Empire, decimate their West Army led by Arandil, and be proclaimed as the head strategist of the Azurand Kingdom.

  Raen knew that, but he could not tell anybody.

  Even if he did, who would listen?

  If they listened, what would he say when asked how he knew about his existence, which was top secret?

  If he managed to lie his way through that as well, they would ask how he knew this was his doing. What gave it away?

  The Ghost was another person nobody knew about, his existence deeply hidden by Cassian. None of his victims ever saw his face, which meant there was no way to identify him.

  That was the reason Raen could do nothing but stare at him previously. Moving against that man was simply far too dangerous for him at the current time.

  ‘I will not place myself in harm’s way just to try and help the Empire.’ Raen told himself. ‘The entire plan was made by Cassian, but framing me … it wasn’t him, but Lucien. I am sure of that.’

  Lucien was a man who loved talent and surrounded himself with talented people. He often tried to poach them from enemy armies as well.

  But if Lucien wasn’t sure he could get such an individual, then no matter who he was, he would crush him with everything he had. He would always make sure that a promising bud could never grow to maturity.

  ‘He knows of me, most likely because of Tarris and Kaelen,’ Raen inwardly cursed his luck. ‘They wrote about me in their reports, and a spy must have gotten his hands on them, relaying the information back to them.’

  He then took a deep breath, staring at the sky above him.

  ‘I am screwed.’