Not Yet

As morning dawns, Klaire cautiously peeks outside her tent, ensuring that Prince Alaric is nowhere to be seen. 

Noticing Klaire's furtive movements, Susan inquires softly, "Who are you searching for, Klaire?" 

Startled, Klaire exclaims, "Susan! When did you arrive? I didn't even notice you were here." 

With a chuckle, Susan replies, "I've been here ever since you started acting sneaky. Are you looking for Jake?" 

Klaire turns her gaze toward Susan, intrigued. 

"He returned with the Crown Prince this morning," Susan reveals. 

Klaire's curiosity piques as she asks, "The Crown Prince left?" 

Susan affirms with a nod, "Yes, they departed just before dawn broke." 

A wave of relief washes over Klaire as she breathes in deeply. He left without a word? Could it be that he has yet to uncover her true identity? He really didn't see through her cover?

With a newfound sense of relief, Klaire exited her tent, ready to contribute to the day's efforts.

As she stepped outside, Klaire noticed the brilliant rays of sunlight dancing on the dust that hung lazily in the air. The once-tranquil town's people found themselves in a dire situation, with tents hastily erected in neat rows, and the enticing aroma of stew wafting through the camp. Children darted about, their laughter a delicate melody attempting to drown out the bitter memories of fire and destruction.

Klaire knelt beside a cart piled high with bundles of clothing, her hands moving swiftly and expertly as she folded tunics and cloaks, passing them to eager hands. The black of her hair shimmered softly in the sunlight, and her expression remained serene despite the fatigue in her muscles and the weight in her heart. 

"Miss Klaire, the bread!" A young boy called out, tugging at her sleeve.

She smiled warmly, handing him a loaf wrapped in cloth. "For your family, Dren. Be sure to share it with your sister."

The boy nodded enthusiastically and dashed off, leaving Klaire to continue her work. Her brown eyes scanned the crowd, keenly observing those in need. That's when she noticed him.

A man, perhaps a few years her senior, with tousled brown hair and an air of carefree confidence, was attempting to juggle three bowls of stew while balancing a basket of bread on his hip. His amber eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he navigated through the crowd, narrowly avoiding spilling his precarious load on an unsuspecting soldier.

"Careful there!" Klaire called out, stifling a laugh.

The man turned, startled, and promptly tripped over a stray bucket. He stumbled, managing to save the stew but not the bread, which fell to the ground. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade than the campfire embers.

Klaire sighed and rose, brushing the dirt from her skirt. She approached him, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You're new here, aren't you?"

He straightened, attempting—and failing—to regain a semblance of dignity. "Is it that obvious?"

"mmmhh," Klaire nodded, bending down to retrieve the fallen bread. She dusted it off and handed it back to him. "Here. Try not to drop it again."

The man accepted it with a sheepish grin. "I'm Wulf," he said, adjusting the balance of the basket more carefully this time. "Just arrived this morning."

Klaire chuckled to herself, thinking of the irony of his name.

"Klaire," she replied simply, studying him closely. His attire was plain, and his demeanor was disarmingly casual, yet there was something about him that felt slightly out of place. Perhaps she was still tense from the earlier encounter with the male lead. "If you're here to help, follow me. We need more hands at the soup line."

"Yes, ma'am," Wulf responded with a playful salute, eliciting a chuckle from her.

As they worked side by side, Wulf filled the air with cheerful banter, asking questions about the camp, its inhabitants, and even the best technique for slicing bread without crushing it.

"Just try not to trip over anything this time," she teased.

"I make no promises," Wulf shot back, his grin shining as brightly as the morning sun.

**Vexhart Military Camp**

Prince Alaric pressed his hands against his temples, deep in thought.

Viscount Dalton reported, "The Daptein Camp was attacked. Approximately four dead, and around twenty others have sustained injuries. It appears that the attackers were not merely executing a planned assault, but were rather in search of something, Your Highness."

Sir Hugon interjected, "The Gwendolyn Empire appears to be better prepared this time around; their offensive was notably more organized than in previous encounters. I have heard rumors of a new general leading their forces, which could explain their strategic improvements."

"Dispatch assistance to the Daptein Camp. This situation can no longer be postponed," Prince Alaric stated as he opened his eyes.

Viscount Dalton nodded in agreement, "We will initiate the plan tomorrow, Your Highness."

As Viscount Dalton exited the room, Sir Hugon turned to Prince Alaric and inquired, "Your Highness, I am curious, why is it that you've not yet retrieved the Dyrna Ring?"

Prince Alaric raised an eyebrow in response, "I need to confirm something. Rest assured, I have already sent someone to ensure that nothing untoward occurs, Hugon."

Sir Hugon nodded,yet his heart felt heavy.

Outside the Camp.

Soon as Viscount Dalton finished dealing with his business, another thing came up.

A soldier approached Viscount Dalton and announced, "Lord Dalton, Duke Edwin Fulton has arrived."

With a cheerful demeanor, Duke Edwin chimed in from behind the soldier, "Dalton!"

Viscount Dalton tilted his head, glancing over the soldier's shoulder with a hint of annoyance as he regarded Duke Edwin.

Duke Edwin, maintaining his smile, stepped closer to Viscount Dalton and remarked, "Can you believe it's been two years since we last met?"

Viscount Dalton replied with a sneer, "What brings you here, Edwin?"

In response, Duke Edwin smiled again and produced a letter from his pocket, handing it to Viscount Dalton.

After reading the letter, Viscount Dalton looked back at Edwin, understanding that Duke Edwin had been ordered to assist with the war effort.

"Come with me," Viscount Dalton instructed Duke Edwin.

Inside the room, Prince Alaric gazes into his cup as Duke Edwin reports for duty. 

"Your Highness, I am here to protect you and assist in any way possible. Please feel free to call upon me for anything," Duke Edwin says with a cheerful smile.

Prince Alaric swirls the water in his cup absentmindedly.

Sir Hugon interjects, "It's a pleasure to have you with us, Duke Edwin. Your family's reputation is indeed commendable, but if I remember correctly, you have never been to war, is that right?"

Duke Edwin responds with another smile, "While this may be my first experience in battle, I assure you, Sir Hugon, I will prove to be a valuable asset."

Viscount Dalton, who has been quietly observing the conversation, chuckles and adds, "I'm certain Duke Edwin is here to assist rather than hinder our progress, Your Highness." He turns to Duke Edwin with a smile, "Wouldn't you agree, Edwin?"

For a fleeting moment, Duke Edwin's smile falters before he replies, "Of course."

Sir Hugon watches as Duke Edwin's figure gradually fades into the shadows.

"Help? Do you truly believe that, Dalton? I suspect he's more likely here to spy on us; I wouldn't be surprised if the Empress sent him," Sir Hugon remarks.

Dalton chuckles and places a reassuring hand on Sir Hugon's shoulder, "You worry too much, Hugon. With me around, nothing can escape my attention."

Sir Hugon shoots a glare at Viscount Dalton, "Duke Edwin should not be underestimated, Dalton," and removes Dalton's hand from his shoulder.

Prince Alaric continues to stare at the swirling water in his cup before abruptly setting it down.

"I'm heading out tonight. Dalton, ensure he doesn't interfere with our plans," Prince Alaric remarked before stepping away to take a bath.

As soon as Hugon left the room, Prince Alaric promptly started changing his clothes.

Throughout the entire conversation, Prince Alaric appeared lost in thought, with the name 'Lunette' occupying his mind.

Of course, he felt an urge to snatch Lunette and erase that smile from her face the moment he spotted her with Jake, but he knew well that the timing wasn't right just yet.

There was one thing he needed to verify. If memory serves right, then if an ordinary person wore the Dyrna Ring, they would be unable to remove it without assistance from someone powerful. This ring is no ordinary piece of jewelry; it possesses abilities that are little known to most. The Empress's relentless pursuit of the ring stems from the immense power it holds. Aside from Prince Alaric, who is a half-demon, it is almost impossible for anyone else to possess the ring unless they have some form of power or mana. However, he found himself questioning why Lunette, an ordinary and corrupted noble, could wear and remove it easily. Was he mistaken? Did she possess mana or some hidden secret he was unaware of? 

Unless she is indeed that "special" person his mother mentioned.

**Merithor Military Camp**

Klaire observes the herb as it simmers. Her head gradually slips from her hand as she drifts off to sleep.

Suddenly jolting awake, Klaire quickly checks on the herb, realizing it has been boiling for quite some time—it should be ready.

She carefully removes the pot of herbs from the fire and sets it aside to cool for the night.

As Klaire exits the tent, she spots Wulf sitting near the fireplace.

"I'm going to open my eyes! Is everyone ready?" Wulf says with a teasing tone.

Klaire approaches him; he has his eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips as his voice echoes into the distance. She looks around, noticing the tranquil surroundings, but wonders what Wulf is up to.

"I'm serious, I'm going to open my eyes now!" Wulf announces again.

Klaire fixes her gaze on him and leans in closer, "You can open your eyes now."

Upon hearing her voice, Wulf quickly opens his eyes. Klaire, who was situated quite close to him, slowly steps back and sits across from him. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I-I'm playing hide and seek with the kids," Wulf replies, slightly flustered.

Unbeknownst to Klaire, Wulf is blushing from their earlier proximity.

Klaire chuckles softly. "At this hour? I think the kids are just teasing you; they've probably retreated to their tents or are resting by now."

Wulf scratches his head, "You think so?"

Klaire nods confidently, "Certain. They can be quite mischievous, you know."

"You must have fallen for their tricks before, I assume," Wulf teases.

Klaire retorts playfully, "I did not!"

A little white lie—Klaire had indeed experienced the kids' playful antics before.

Clearing her throat, she hands Wulf some food she had set aside earlier. "I noticed you didn't eat much, so take this."

Wulf smiles appreciatively, "Thank you."

Klaire nods in response, "We're all facing tough times; helping each other is the best support we can offer."

Wulf gazes at the food in front of him, feeling a pang of guilt about deceiving Klaire, but he knows it's all part of his duty.

Klaire lets out a sigh, recalling what she had heard from other volunteers about Wulf searching for his lost family.

With a reassuring smile, she says, "I'm heading back now. Great job on your first day here.I heard you're looking for your family; I'm sure they're nearby or at one of the other camps, so try not to worry too much."

Wulf returns her smile, although her comforting words only amplify his feelings of guilt.

Somewhere Else.

Beneath the moonless sky, the forest was a shadowed labyrinth, silent and oppressive. Prince Alaric and Sir Hugon moved like wraiths through the undergrowth, their black-clad forms merging with the darkness. Hoods concealed their faces, leaving no trace of their identities.

Ahead, the Gwendolyn Main encampment stretched across the clearing, its tents dimly illuminated by sparse torchlight. The two figures stopped at the edge of the largest tent, the faint murmur of voices reaching their ears.

Inside, a cloaked figure sat on a simple cot, their dark cape hiding all but wisps of pale blue hair, as light as the sky at dawn. Beneath the hood, darker streaks shimmered like ocean depths. A man in armor, his stature commanding yet deferential, stood nearby. His short black hair framed a face worn by duty and concern.

"Your Radiance," the armored man began, his voice low, "we have found no nothing matching your description."

The cloaked figure's reply was measured and quiet. "As expected. That was but one encampment among many. The search must continue."

The man hesitated. "Your Radiance, the troops grow weary. If we persist without clear results, our forces may falter before the war is won."

A pause. The figure on the cot remained still before speaking again, the tone unyielding. "Some pursuits demand patience, Duke Vaynor. Or do you question my command?"

The duke stiffened. "Never, Your Radiance."

"Good," came the response. "You will find what I seek."

Outside, Prince Alaric and Sir Hugon remained motionless, their presence unnoticed. The muted exchange within the tent concluded, leaving only the sound of the night wind brushing against the canvas.

As they moved silently away from the encampment, Sir Hugon broke the quiet. "Dalton was right. They're searching for something—or someone. But for what purpose, Your Highness?"

Prince Alaric kept silent. Reflecting on earlier, he sensed significant mana emanating from the cloaked figure sitting behind that cover; undoubtedly, whatever he is searching for must holds great importance.