They did not go running back. Arty had been insistent that they figure out if there was a pattern to the enemy activity and to witness any possible collaborators. Even if they had sprinted away and the adults had taken immediate action, it would not have saved the poor souls in front of them.

  Arty had understood and had grounded Emerii and Royce. When they were satisfied with their knowledge, the trio departed the way they had come. There had been no difficulties in their escape.

  Slowly, the world weighing upon their young shoulders, they trudged back to the Liofeld castle.

  There were only three they knew they could fully trust. His Majesty King Rowain, the Lord Captain, and Ellerie. Of course, there were many others, but those three would be best to tell, and undoubtedly the safest.

  “Do not lose heart in the Welkia Royal Guard,” Arty said proudly. “That is not an operation sanctioned by our Kingdom. It is obvious those two fools are being paid off to assist in the smuggling.”

  Royce nodded. Still, the Royal Guard was among the highest positions in the Kingdom. To have even two corrupt soldiers was disheartening.

  Despite the problems, Royce hardened his heart and looked to Arty’s back, so resolute despite his age.

  He still held that posture as he described the problem to King Rowain.

  The three aforementioned adults looked on worriedly, then began to think on the issue. What had confused Royce was that Arty had left out the names of the two traitors. He had mentioned recognizing the royal crest among the thugs, but did not name them.

  Emerii put her hand on Royce’s shoulder. Perhaps it seemed strange, but he knew the answer to his question. After what they witnessed, they could not leave them to a trial or to someone else.

  They would have to exact a very personal justice. That was how Royce would see it. Arty wanted to claim vengeance. Emerii to prevent tragedy by her own hands.

  The trio would not be privy to the operation, but still, they would sniff them out. The traitors.

  Royce could trust the three adults before them, even if his father was giving him a wretched look at the moment. Still, this was something they would have to do for themselves.

  It did not take long for King Rowain to act. As a precaution, very few Royal Guards participated, instead focusing on trustworthy city soldiers.

  It was a good idea, as they had not witnessed any, though that did not completely eliminate the possibility that some were involved. In general, it depended on how large a trafficking syndicate it was. Royce felt it was relatively small; keen eyes would have noticed otherwise. Despite the dislike for his father, the Lord Captain kept a hawk’s eye on the city that was his charge.

  While keeping the plan under wraps, the trio scouted further into the underground ruins. The old tombs, as well as the castle’s prison, were connected, as were many other outlets. One particular area was where they had been bringing people out of the city. That was a path that led outside, and under the cover of night, they would spirit away the poor souls.

  This was also a wide area that led to the framework of old ramparts. Here, they would lie in wait. The trio trusted their elders to deal with the thugs, but the two traitorous Royal Guard would be shrewd. They would seek escape.

  Undoubtedly, their enemy would be down here as well. They would have no idea that retribution was coming. They were of Welkia, and as such, the Promised One and his companions would deal with them.

  Mice ran on old stone. Water dripped irregularly around them as they hid, waiting for their prey. The trio would not hear the ousting of the evil; they could only hope their quarry made it to them.

  Running, echoing on stone. Heaved breaths, as fleeing souls wandered toward them.

  “How did they find out?” A male voice asked.

  “Someone must have ratted us out. Or a fool left open a trail to us,” A feminine voice hissed.

  The trio knew those voices well. Knew they would try to save themselves. Hidden as they were, the two scoundrels walked into their trap. A more open area, in unstable ruins. It would make sense if it all came crashing down.

  As Tomer and Wila stumbled onto the platform, Arty chopped at a beam at the same time as Emerii. The wide area crumpled into a heap of stone and dust. Where the betrayers had once been standing was now wreckage that led to other areas of the ruins.

  “That should have messed them up quite a bit,” Emerii said. “Should we leave them to the adults now?” She then chuckled at the look in Arty’s eyes.

  Yes, this was far from over.

  Down a broken corridor, Wila was yelling out for her companion.

  “Arty, Emerii, you two confront her,” Royce said. “I’m more stealthy, I’ll search for Tomer.”

  “Don’t fight him by yourself. We’re not strong enough yet.” Arty replied.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Still, they would trust him with finding the man, as he would trust them with dealing with the dread woman.

  Without another word, he set off, treading down with careful steps. There was no voice like that of Wila, so Royce began searching where the man had once been. Had he been buried? Cursed to die alone and trapped. That would be a fitting end.

  But the man was a member of the Welkia Royal Guard. Even with a trap set, Royce doubted he would be slain so easily.

  Crawling through a narrow passage, the boy’s gut feeling was proven true. Ahead, lit only by a fallen torch, was Tomer. He was standing, hand against a wall. He heaved with every breath, and the wounds were apparent. Streaks of blood streamed down his head, and his eyes darted with a mixture of confusion and fear.

  A concussed foe. Arty’s words echoed through his mind. No, I can do this. I will not put the burden on my friends or on the adults. I’m the son of the Lord Captain, the next generation of Drajin warriors. It is my duty!

  Obscured in shadow, he would not let the man see him. Slowly, he pulled out the crossbow he had stolen from the armory. The man before him was a trained soldier, but was weakened. Even though Royce was a child, the weapon in his hands leveled the odds.

  Fingering the trigger, he tensed his hand. The bolt flew through the narrow corridor, puncturing Tomer in the hip. The man squealed as he fell to the ground.

  Realizing he had not finished the man off, Royce began to work on reloading.

  “Ahh! Who did that?” Tomer screamed out, launching the torch in the direction of Royce.

  No longer obscured, their eyes met.

  “Royce? Why?”

  Not responding, Royce fumbled his reloading.

  “Where are we? Help, Royce, I’m injured.”

  He finished the affixation of the bolt, and he once again aimed the crossbow.

  The man reached his hands out. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m hurt, I need you to drag me out of here. Remember me? I’m your friend. We’ve played in the city together.”

  The crossbow in Royce’s arms was unsteady, as his breath became ragged. Staring into the man’s confused, jostled eyes.

  Perhaps Tomer finally realized the situation through his haze. He let out a deathly groan that would never leave Royce’s ears. Suddenly, the man screamed and flailed helplessly. Drawing his sword, he swung as if to defend against the crossbow.

  Whatever Tomer’s deity was, the man was in no condition to summon it. Royce thanked God for that. Tomer threw his sword, but it was far off.

  Royce could make out the veins in the man’s eyes, and could not tell if it was him or the man screaming at the moment the bolt flew.

  The body crumpled, and Royce quickly turned away. Reloading once again, he sought to help his friends. It was not as if he were trying to flee from what had just occurred.

  Returning to where their initial trap had been sprung, Royce followed the sound of battle. Through a shattered doorway, an open room was before him.

  “Damn ungrateful brats!” Wila screamed as she lashed out with her blade. The woman had suffered some damage from the trap as well as what appeared to be cuts from swords.

  Royce’s friends were battered. Young as they were, they were wielding short swords and fighting a trained soldier. It was luck that had kept them going so far.

  Wila created a rock in her hand and shot it at Emerii, forcing her to back off. Then, she lunged at Arty, who was only able to block thanks to his own deity.

  Royce had been unnoticed. He took a position and readied his weapon. At the perfect moment, he fired.

  The bolt arched towards her. Noticing it, she deflected with her sword.

  That created the opening.

  Screaming with everything they had, Arty and Emerii raced forward, swords aimed to take Wila’s life.

  This time, the soldier did not have the time to parry. From opposite directions, the twin swords stabbed into the woman’s throat. Royce had created enough of a distraction. If he had failed, they may have met their end here instead.

  Royce saw the woman’s soul leave her body. A fellow Welkia citizen. A fellow Drajin. A fellow human. Gone. But deserved. Justice had been metered out.

  Exiting the ruins, Royce knew he would always remember this. The taste of his first kills, their desperate expressions, never left him. But they had deserved their fate. It may have been more merciful than letting his father catch them.

  They had left their plundered weapons with the dead. They did not wish to be caught, to have to explain what they had done. Some would question their humanity, killing at such a tender age.

  However, this was an era of war. Of slaughter and strife. This was only the first step in what would become a bloodied tapestry. Royce would follow Arty through it all, with Emerii at his side. No matter if they drowned, he would trudge through the lakes of the dead.

  The trio had followed the most linear path, which appeared to have been walked countless times by those being sent outside the city. Some likelihood that they would run into an enemy remained, but they had become numb and tired due to the encounter. Eventually, the ruined remains of old buildings were left behind for a more traditional tunnel.

  An end was upon them, and they pushed the makeshift door made of debris away. The tunnel had connected to a densely forested area, with much bramble and slight hills to cover the place. If someone did not know the entrance was here, they would not stumble upon it.

  Should they have been worried about the safety issue? It was doubtful such a path would be useful or known, even if there were various other ones as well.

  After quietly orienting themselves for a moment, they began to head back to Liofeld overland.

  Royce took in the new scents and scenery. From his brief exceptions atop towers and the defense walls, he had seen the forests and plains. Trees and grass were not new to him either; there were some in the city, especially near his home.

  However, this was different. Surrounded by nature, not by his fellow man. A refreshing, calming essence entered him, unlike anything he had felt. Perhaps without it, he would have gone insane from what he had just experienced.

  Pushing out of the forest, the plains in front of Liofeld spread out, open and free. The sun flew in the sky, giving its blessing for a job well accomplished. The city stood resolute before them, a monument to Royce’s people.

  His first steps outside. His first kill. The first taste of true freedom, bonded with his friends.

  Emerii took their shoulders in an embrace. “We finally got Royce out of the city.” She was trying to lighten the mood, but there was still a tinge of darkness in her voice.

  That was cleared by Arty’s laughter. “If only we weren’t so tired. Another day, we’ll have to explore the outside.” He hugged them tight. “We share this day, this deepening of our bond. My chosen friends, thank you.”

  “Despite that, I think it would be good not to speak of it,” Emerii said with a chuckle.

  Arty nodded his head slightly.

  They departed for the city, planning on how to get in without being in trouble for escaping somehow.

  Royce lightly gripped his mother’s hand. He had just finished telling her about his adventures, though his mind was elsewhere.

  Had anyone ever learned what had occurred that day? If they had, my friends and I had yet to be confronted.

  “I pray that all my friends will have safe travels,” He softly spoke to his mother. “While I am reminiscing, they are in danger or completing their duties.” He sighed. “But I will make sure they have a place to return to, as I make sure you have a safe home to live your life.”

  His mother did not respond, but he still smiled fondly at her.