Chapter 113: 113 — Raniel?
The journey did not halt because of the injured knights—or the General. The horsemen rode their own mounts, while the wounded shared the empty carriage Zayden had prepared. Fortunately, only four soldiers were injured, and none had been killed.
Most of the assassins had fled once they noticed the General was wounded. It was clear by then that Zayden had been their target. But why? No one knew the answer.
Tall buildings blurred past as the carriage sped forward, blending into the flow of traffic. Commoners stood before their shops, waiting for customers, while behind them were established luxurious stores built for the wealthy.
"Papa! It’s so pretty!" Eiran exclaimed, peeking through the window.
Ren nodded, his gaze fixed on the scenery outside. He had never been to a town before—let alone the capital. His eyes sparkled each time he noticed a commoner performing small magic tricks to draw a crowd for a few coins, or when his gaze lingered on fruits he had never tasted, or the attire of the townsfolk—so different from that of Hianshu.
Perhaps it was because he had only ever seen the High Priests and priests of the Temple, always draped in long white cloaks. Now, white felt like a sting against his skin, something that crawled and bit beneath the surface.
Zayden, seated across from the pair, smiled softly. For a fleeting moment, he understood why so many mistook them for father and son.
Their expressions, their hair, even the subtle tilt of their features mirrored one another too perfectly to be ignored. Once, the thought might have left him uneasy. But now, it brought him quiet joy—that the person he cared for could so easily be seen as his son’s real father.
"My Lord?" Ren turned, finding him staring at them for too long. "Is something wrong?"
Zayden shook his head.
"You have never been to the capital, have you?"
Ren blinked, then gave a curt nod.
"Do you like it?" the General asked, glancing at Eiran, who was too absorbed in the unfolding scenery to listen to their conversation.
"It is pretty," Ren murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he rested his hand against the cold windowpane.
The carriage soon rolled through the towering iron gates of the Royal Palace, finally halting before the grand entrance.
"We have arrived," the horseman announced, as a knight swung the door open for the General.
"Sir, are you alright?" Helain called, dismounting her horse with haste.
Alongside her, Aarson and Liam hurried forward, their steps quick despite the thick snow.
"Yes. Go summon the High Priests," Zayden ordered, planting his boots firmly into the snow.
Though hesitant, the three bowed in unison and obeyed.
Turning back, Zayden extended his hand to Eiran. The child placed his small fingers into his father’s palm, hopping lightly from the carriage.
"Careful!" Ren and Zayden gasped at once, both reaching to steady him in case he stumbled.
"I’m fine, Papa, Dad." Eiran turned, grinning brightly at the two of them.
The palace shone brightly under the burning sun, the snow slowly melting under its warmth. Knights in polished armor stood in perfect rows by the gate, their spears gleaming, cautious.
Ren stepped down last, his breath caught at the sight. He had never seen such grandeur, nor so many eyes watching, guarding. A weight pressed against his shoulders, heavy.
Why did he even come here?
He didn’t belong in such a luxurious place,
"Come," Zayden said, leading the way forward with Eiran’s hand still in his.
The servant followed, carefully adjusting his hood before the High Priests of Hianshu arrived. They could not see him—absolutely not.
Catching a glimpse of a strand of silver hair slipping from Ren’s hood, Loti’s steps faltered.
"Raniel?" a familiar voice called, but Ren didn’t turn, didn’t stop, didn’t look back. His chest tightened, his throat dry with fear as he hurried after the General.
Loti froze, tugging Henry’s sleeve.
"Why did he not stop? I am certain it was Raniel," she whispered, her brows furrowed in shock.
Henry frowned, gripping her shoulder firmly. "Get a hold of yourself, Loti. Raniel wouldn’t be with the General."
"B-But... this man... Why—why is he walking so close to the General? Ren won’t leave Ilyan for sure but... and the way the General looks at him..."
Zayden’s hand brushed against Ren’s arm as if to steady him, his gaze softening without him even noticing.
Loti’s lips parted.
"No way... does he—" she paused, turning her gaze toward Henry. "Is he in love with this person?"
"It looks like that," Henry muttered, locking eyes with her.
They stepped closer to Helain, who walked at their side, curiosity gnawing at them.
"Excuse me... that servant, who is he?" Henry asked, testing.
"Oh, him?" Helain’s tone was casual. "He is—"
Before she could finish, Eiran spun around, tugging Ren’s sleeve.
"Papa! Did you see these lights?" the boy called brightly, pointing at the tree-shaped lanterns glowing beside one of the doorframes, their glow lighting the figures as they entered.
Loti’s eyes widened.
"P-Papa?!" She looked at them in disbelief.
Henry shook his head immediately. "Wrong person. Got to be." He forced a laugh. "Raniel would never—no. It can’t be him."
Still, the frown on her face remained, Loti’s eyes narrowing on the hooded figure at Zayden’s side.
There was a scent—familiar, clinging. A presence she couldn’t identify, yet she knew. She knew this person.
"My heart tells me it is him," she muttered, more to herself than to Henry.
"Your Holiness?" the priests who had already reached them called. "Is everything alright?"
Henry nodded quickly, turning Loti so they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of her expression.
"What is wrong with Her Holiness?" another priest asked, his gaze curious.
"She is feeling unwell after traveling in this freezing weather," Henry lied smoothly.
Loti forced a smile, turning back toward them.
"Are we going to have our whole conversation here, or should we go?"
The priests’ postures straightened immediately. They nodded, bowing as they waited for the two High Priests to lead the way.
Inhaling deeply, Loti strode through the bright hallways. The walls were simply painted white, yet adorned with colorful paintings and elegant curves that made the palace seem far more welcoming than the Temple she had lived in for years.
A faint smile formed on her lips.
Ilyan and Ren would have loved this place.