CHAPTER 74: CHAPTER 74: WE’RE GUESTS UNTIL PROVEN OTHERWISE

Rashid nodded, his movements quiet and composed as he stared into distance, totally at ease.

"Even the desert has a voice.." he added. "The wind carries everything. The sand remembers where footsteps go."

Fadil tore bread with broad hands, speaking between thoughtful bites.

"Which is why gossip travels even faster than caravans.." he said with a grin.

Min-jae allowed himself to breathe.The table felt warm. These people didn’t pressure him to tell them about his past, they included him into their circle and made him part of it.

Hanan continued, more animated now.

"My family lives in the western quarter. My mother dyes cloth. My father used to make glass, but his eyesight has dimmed, so now he tells stories. The children adore him more than his vases ever could.." She laughed lightly.

Min-jae found himself responding without thinking, his voice softer than before.

"It sounds... like a really nice place to call home.."

Hanan smiled, not sweetly, but honestly as she nodded, though it had its downfall.

It was still home and she loved it.

"It is home. Whatever else it becomes, it is always home.."

Rashid lifted his tea.

"And if you come with respect, Abdel-shafi will welcome you.."

Min-jae smiled as he followed their lead and tore into the bread as well.

The lamb literally fell off the bones and he found himself enjoying each bite.

Then Fadil leaned back, his eyes studying Min-jae with polite curiosity.

"And you, Vahid? Where do you call home?"

The question landed sharp, but quiet.

Home?

Min-jae thought to himself?

His old home in his original reality? He didn’t miss it, but he felt guilty leaving his sister behind.

The castle he served in, he felt like an animal there, with Radomir as his owner trying to gain control over him.

Then there’s estate he tried to live in. He thought life with Meical would be simple. But there are too many obstacles and he’s not matured enough to not run away from his problems.

And finally the kingdom that threw fruit at him and dragged his name as an innocent man into the mud.

Min-jae answered truthfully, his fingers tightening slightly around his cup.

"I don’t know. Home to me as a different meaning now. I just need somewhere I can rest my head.."

No one tried to soothe him or dismiss what he had said.

They simply let the words live in the air.

Hanan set her cup down gently. This fruit wine was really good, paired with the lamb was simply divine.

"People lose their homes sometimes.." she said. "But they also find new ones. Even though the road erases your footsteps when you stop walking. There’s always a new path for you to take. There’s always a way out Vahid."

The driver appeared at the doorway, dust clinging to his boots and sweat dampening the edge of his cap. He gave a short nod toward their table.

"Time to be on our way. The sun’s moving fast," he said, his tone brisk but respectful.

Rashid sighed, draining the last of his tea before standing. "Duty calls," he murmured, brushing the crumbs from his lap. Hanan gave a small groan of disappointment but rose as well, tying her veil back into place with deft fingers. Fadil stretched, the movement lazy and feline, then reached into his satchel.

They each placed two silvers on the table—coins catching the light like droplets of quicksilver. Min-jae hesitated, searching his pockets. No small coins. Only the heavy gleam of gold. He set one down without a word. The innkeeper’s eyes widened slightly but said nothing; respect and gratitude flickered behind her composed smile.

Hanan noticed and leaned close, whispering with a half-laugh, "You just fed this whole inn for a week, Vahid."

Min-jae smiled, he didn’t mind leaving a gold coin "The food was good.."

They stepped outside into the glaring afternoon. The heat struck like a physical thing, sharp and dry, pressing against their skin. The driver had already loaded their belongings, the horses snorting softly in protest against the warmth.

As they climbed back into the carriage, the inn shrank behind them, swallowed by wind and distance. Min-jae looked out the small window, watching the horizon shift in waves of amber and gold. Abdel-shafi lay far ahead, a kingdom waiting behind the desert haze.

He didn’t know what awaited him there.

But for the first time since the whole ordeal happened, he felt like he could relax there.

They’d been on the road for half a day when the tension in the carriage grew thick enough to choke on. The wheels hit stones in steady rhythm, and Meical hadn’t spoken since they crossed the Aldorian border.

Sebastian finally cleared his throat. "We should arrive in Lucine by sundown tomorrow, my lord. The riders ahead sent word that the roads are clear."

Meical nodded once, expression unreadable. He didn’t want to think about Aldoria. Or Kaizar. Every turn of the wheels only reminded him how badly he’d handled things and how little it mattered now. So when Sebastian spoke again, his voice hesitant, Meical seized the chance to shift focus.

"Tell me about Lucine’s forces," he said. "How many men are stationed along the borders?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by the change of topic. "Their main garrison lies north of the capital. Roughly six thousand, but only half are properly armed. Most of Lucine’s strength doesn’t lie in soldiers. It’s in their fanatics, the ones who follow Morrigan’s cult."

Meical leaned back, eyes narrowing. "The wizard still has that much influence?"

"Yes, my lord. The king trusts him completely. Every decree goes through Morrigan first. He’s... dangerous. The kind who hides poison behind civility."

The carriage slowed as the driver called out, the Lucine border up ahead, lanterns glowing pale blue beneath the carved archway. Soldiers in black-and-silver armor stood waiting, their insignias gleaming like frost.

"Remember.." Meical said, adjusting his cloak. "We’re guests until proven otherwise. Let’s not give the king or his pet wizard a reason to make that distinction too soon."

The carriage doors opened to the chill wind. Lucine awaited, beautiful, eerie, and wrong in ways only Meical could sense.

The Captain of the guard approached, his boots clicking sharply against the courtyard stones. His eyes flicked briefly to Aldoria’s flag, then to Meical’s, raised beside it. The soldiers shifted subtly, their respect almost tangible. Aldoria’s colors spoke of diplomacy while Meical’s spoke of command. Together, they demanded attention without a word.

The captain inclined his head, voice steady but weighted. "Welcome to Lucine, my lord. The city has been prepared for your arrival. The gates are open, and the castle awaits."

Meical stepped down from the carriage, cloak brushing the ground. His gaze swept the courtyard, noting the soldiers’ disciplined lines, the way their hands hovered lightly near their weapons. Every detail mattered. Lucine’s order was precise, almost suffocating in its rigidity, and he felt the familiar twinge of irritation at the subtle control hidden beneath polite ceremony.

"Your men have done well.." Meical said, his tone measured, coldly courteous. "I will not waste your time."

The captain’s eyes flicked at him, appraising, before returning to the straight path he had cleared. "Of course, my lord. The castle is ready to receive you. Your escort will remain until you are inside."

Meical’s boots crunched against the gravel, each step deliberate. His eyes scanned the walls, noting the banners of Lucine fluttering pale in the afternoon light, the carved gargoyles that seemed to watch from high perches. The city itself felt alive, and wrong.

It was beautiful, orderly, but every shadow, every perfectly straight line of stone whispered of the wizard who controlled it, Morrigan.

He approached the castle gates without a word. Soldiers straightened, some bowing subtly, others simply holding their positions with rigid discipline. The Captain gestured forward. "Through here, my lord. The king awaits inside. And... the wizard Morrigan also awaits..."

Meical’s hand brushed the edge of his cloak. Morrigan’s presence was already heavy in the air, even before seeing him. He inhaled, composed, letting the tension coil and settle like a rope ready to spring.

The gates opened with a slow, echoing creak, revealing the castle courtyard. Every soldier, every carved stone, every flickering lantern spoke of control, power, and the quiet menace of a city ruled by magic and influence.

Meical stepped forward, his boots landing with certainty.

Eyes forward.

Every step measured.

He did not greet, did not bow.

The Captain fell back, leaving him at the threshold. "Proceed with caution, my lord.." he said, voice low, almost a whisper.