Rugr rode the horse hard, the rhythmic thrum of its hooves pounding a steady beat against the earth. As they crested a small hill, the city of Balta came into view. Tall buildings and a few towers rose above the treetops, marking the edge of civilization. Beyond the town sprawled the Bay of Balta, its waters gray and still, reflecting the pre-dawn sky, brilliant with lingering stars. On the horizon, a dark cluster of birds swarmed above fishing boats while a solitary ship with full sails carved its path southward toward lands Rugr would never see. Its majesty stirred something faint and wistful within him, but the feeling was fleeting.
Rugr’s plan was simple. He would proceed as though nothing had changed, save for the minor delay caused by the wagon accident. The ship’s captain would ask no questions. Their dealings had always been discreet, and their trust was built on mutual need rather than personal connection. As far as the captain was concerned, the reason for the delay was irrelevant.
Still, Rugr prepared himself to encounter others of his kind. On any other day, this would have been unlikely. But recent events had planted seeds of doubt in his mind. He turned over the details of their mission, scrutinizing each moment and decision. The incongruities gnawed at him.
For one, he almost always traveled alone. If the mission called for assistance, he chose someone green, of low rank—someone expendable. It was a precaution he’d rarely needed but one he never ignored. Yet this time, Kleo had been assigned to him. That fact alone carried weight.
When Markus had casually suggested that Kleo accompany him on this mission, Rugr’s instincts had screamed to object. But he’d hesitated, biting back his protest. Markus had made his case with smooth, practiced ease:
“It will be good for her to get out, see some of the outer world, and learn firsthand how things are done. She’ll be in good hands—your hands. And besides, I know how close you two are. Imagine the joy of watching her experience the wonders of the outer world for the first time.”
Rugr had recognized the tactic immediately. Markus’s casual suggestion would solidify into an unshakable command if he resisted. And besides, there was truth in the words. Kleo would enjoy it. So would Rugr.
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He loved the girl as if she were his daughter. From the time she was no more than a toddler, he had been her protector, her teacher, her guide. When Markus Leness, Astiria’s leader and founder, had entrusted Kleo to his care, Rugr had sworn to safeguard her with his life. Yet, even as her guardian, his role came with frustrating limitations. Markus had forbidden him from training her beyond the most basic skills, insisting she not be prepared for combat or field assignments.
True to his nature, Rugr had occasionally bent this rule. He couldn’t bear to see her left defenseless, unable to navigate even the most straightforward challenges of their world. Quietly, he had taught her what he could without drawing too much attention. But his efforts were measured, his disobedience cautious. Markus left little room for leeway when it came to Kleo.
Rugr often thought of her as a beautiful bird trapped in a cage. Markus had constructed that cage carefully, his reasons unclear even to Rugr, but its bars were unyielding. What pained Rugr most was that Kleo knew it. She felt the weight of her confinement, the frustration of clipped wings, and in her quieter moments, she laid the blame at Rugr’s feet. Their closeness, forged through years of daily life, often amplified her resentment. She saw him as both protector and jailer, and though he bore her anger without complaint, it left scars.
To Rugr, she was his daughter in every way that mattered. Her biological father, Markus, was little more than an accident of fate. And like any father, Rugr wanted her to be strong, capable, and, if possible, happy. But if there was a single discordant note in the harmony of Astiria, it was Kleo. Though all loved her, she was treated differently—a tone set by Markus and the others in leadership. Rugr knew he was her only true ally.
This mission felt like a chance for her to escape Markus’s cage, even briefly. She could spread her wings, if only for a few brief moments. Perhaps she could even fly.
Yet as Rugr rode toward Balta, the nagging doubts returned. The circumstances were unusual. Markus, for all his casualness, rarely acted without purpose. Why Kleo? Why now? The timing felt too deliberate, the mission too convenient. And if Markus had orchestrated this, what was his game?
The towers of Balta loomed closer, their weathered stone dark against the slate-gray sky. Rugr tightened his grip on the reins, the threads of suspicion weaving tighter in his mind. Whatever the girl’s reasons for her recent actions—whatever truths she carried—he knew one thing for sure: the actual stakes of this mission had yet to reveal themselves. And when they did, the consequences would ripple far beyond Balta’s shores.
