Unexpected Savior

The intensity of the impact ruled out mere road conditions, hinting at an external force at play.

Peering through a crack in the wagon's wall, Fabian's eyes widened in terror. A menacing group of men, armed with menacing weaponry, closed in on the wagon. Enormous rocks pounded the wagon's walls, creating a cacophony of chaos. 

The attackers emerged from all directions, some wielding bows and arrows, the lethal projectiles coming perilously close to Fabian's very eyes.

With a swift, instinctive step backward, Fabian's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword. 

It was tempting to step in and end this unsettling encounter swiftly, but that was an impossibility; his presence must remain concealed at all costs.

"Please, sirs, have mercy," the trembling driver implored, his voice quivering like leaves in the wind.

"What's inside that wagon?" queried one of the menacing figures, nudging the wagon with his gleaming cutlass. 

The remaining hooligans either shook the wagon in an attempt to discern its contents or menacingly closed in on the hapless driver. "There's nothing here, sir, just rocks meant for construction," he stammered, desperate.

Unsatisfied with the answer, the driver was wrenched from his seat. He was unceremoniously dumped to his knees, his head colliding with the unforgiving ground. Whimpers for mercy escaped him, tugging at Fabian's heartstrings.

In this moment of dilemma, Fabian admired the driver's steadfast silence regarding his own presence. His mind, however, waged a relentless internal battle, torn between remaining hidden or intervening to aid the suffering man.

As the tension in the air reached a breaking point, Fabian's heart pounded in his chest. Hand tight on his sword, he was ready to help the driver.

Then, in a heartbeat, chaos erupted. A sudden onslaught of arrows found its mark, leaving the hooligans clutching their wounded hearts, their faces twisted in agony.

Within mere seconds, more arrows rained down from an undisclosed location within the dense woods. Panic seized the hooligans, who scattered in every direction, their frantic efforts to locate their unseen assailant proving futile.

Amidst the confusion, the wagon was suddenly surrounded by a horde of charging figures, their thundering roars shattering the eerie stillness of the forest. 

"HAAAAA!!!!!!!" came a battle cry.

"Kill them!" another voice bellowed.

"Don't leave a single one alive!" 

Inside the wagon, Fabian could only catch fleeting glimpses of the pandemonium beyond. 

Men clashed in vicious knife fights, while others engaged in brutal bare-handed brawls. The relentless rain of arrows continued unabated, contributing to the bedlam that unfolded around the wagon.

Shortly thereafter, the metallic clashing of blades fell silent, leaving behind only the rasping breaths of those locked in combat and the echoes of triumphant cries. 

Fabian, still confined within the wagon, strained to grasp the unfolding situation through the narrow crack in the wooden walls.

His moment of uncertainty was abruptly interrupted as the wagon's door creaked open from the outside. 

The driver, his breath ragged and his face streaked with sweat and tears, gasped out, "Your Grace!"

Stepping out of the wagon, Fabian welcomed the much-needed opportunity to stretch his cramped limbs after enduring hours in such a confining space. 

"Your Grace!" another figure emerged from the woods, a man dressed in humble attire but the bow and arrows gave his identity away.

"Was it Princess Elke who sent you?" Fabian inquired.

The man hesitated, biting his lower lip and furrowing his brow, torn between truth and discretion, unwilling to implicate the princess. 

Fabian, displaying understanding, spoke softly, "It's alright. Please convey my heartfelt gratitude to the princess. Thanks to your swift action, we are now out of harm's way."

The knight knelt before Fabian. "It is my duty, Your Grace."

"Are you alone?" 

"Yes, Your Grace," the knight responded, his tone respectful and his demeanor steadfast. "Her Highness didn't want to draw undue attention to the wagon, so she instructed me to follow discreetly, ensuring no one would suspect my affiliation with the group."

With the explanation settled, Fabian turned his attention to the supposed bodyguards that Madam Geneviere had arranged. His voice held a tinge of frustration as he asked, "Why have you arrived so late?"

The leader of the group bowed his head slightly. "Please forgive us, Your Grace. We encountered an enemy faction along the way and were compelled to engage in combat. By the time we reached the designated meeting point, you were no longer there, so we had to track your whereabouts here. It was not intentional, I swear."

A sigh escaped Fabian's lips; there was little he could do if their tardiness had a legitimate cause. 

Before returning to the confines of the wagon's trunk, he turned to the driver and issued a directive, "Find a nearby stopping point, please. I need to rest."

***

When Yohana received word of the perilous situation Fabian had encountered, her heart clenched, threatening to betray her composure. It was only Princess Elke's supportive grip on her hand that prevented her from succumbing to a near-fainting spell.

Summoning the courage to speak, Princess Elke delicately broached a question that had lingered in her thoughts. 

"Lady Runa, I beg your pardon for this intrusive inquiry, but do you harbor romantic feelings for Duke Fabian?"

Yohana's throat tightened, a vivid recollection of Henrie's jealousy flashing through her mind. Even Princess Elke appeared to share the same suspicion.

Swallowing her emotions, Yohana shook her head vehemently. "No, Your Highness, not at all. He is akin to a brother to me," she replied, determined to maintain this facade and protect her true identity. 

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Yohana recognized the need to temper her emotions and responses concerning Fabian. Although it weighed heavily on her, it was a necessary measure.

Princess Elke, sensing Yohana's turmoil, sought to reassure her. Placing her hand atop Yohana's, she spoke with conviction, "I have dispatched our most skilled archer to guard him from behind, and the group sent by Madam Geneviere has now joined them. He will be safe, I assure you."