chapter 12.1

As the evening sun cast golden light upon the castle courtyard, Alcard stood still, his grip firm on the reins of a pristine white horse. The beast was elegantly bred, its coat gleaming under the soft glow, a stark contrast to Alcard's own somber presence. His gaze lingered on the looming walls of the fortress, a symbol of power and privilege, so far removed from the harsh world of The Wall. His mind, however, was restless—filled with unanswered questions that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

"Why?" he murmured under his breath. "Why would Lady Arwen, a noblewoman with an entire kingdom's resources, choose to travel with an outcast like me?"

Where were her guards? Where was her escort befitting her status? What game was she playing?

The white horse let out a quiet snort, snapping Alcard back to the present. He patted the creature's neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingers.

"You seem to belong here more than I do," he muttered, half to himself, half to the horse.

There was something oddly calm about the animal—a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.

Then, the great doors of the castle groaned open, revealing Lady Arwen as she stepped out with graceful poise. Her dress flowed elegantly, caught by the gentle evening breeze, her movements so effortless, so controlled, as if she commanded the very air around her.

Behind her stood Lord Edmun Wolven, his expression carefully schooled into politeness, though his smile held little warmth.

"May your journey be pleasant, Lady Arwen," he said, his tone drenched in formality. "You are always welcome at my fortress."

Yet when his gaze flickered to Alcard, his courtesy turned to cold disdain—a noble's subtle way of expressing contempt.

Alcard remained unfazed, merely noting the look with silent calculation. So that's how it is, then.

Lord Edmun wanted no part in this.

He wanted nothing to do with the affairs that Lady Arwen was entangling herself in.

So, instead, he conveniently handed her off to an outcast and washed his hands of the matter—a classic maneuver among nobles who sought to distance themselves from risk.

Meanwhile, Lady Arwen approached the white horse Alcard had been holding. With fluid precision, she mounted it effortlessly, her movements practiced yet refined.

Once settled, she ran a hand along the horse's mane, her gaze distant, as if caught in a memory.

"I rarely ride," she admitted softly, her voice thoughtful. "But this horse… he is special. A gift from my late father. He has been with me since childhood."

Alcard gave a small nod, filing that information away.

"A noble with such a legacy, choosing to travel unguarded," he mused. "Is this an escape? Or is she hiding something greater?"

Without another word, Alcard took the reins, leading the horse toward the open gates. His steps were steady, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning the surroundings for anything unusual.

As they rode through the fortress courtyard, watchful eyes followed their every move.

Whispers rose from townsfolk and soldiers alike, skepticism and scorn lacing every word.

"An outcast? What is he doing here?" a woman muttered in disgust.

"Why is Lady Arwen traveling with him?" a guard whispered, his voice thick with suspicion.

Alcard ignored them all.

He had long since grown numb to their words, though there was always a bitter taste left behind.

"They know nothing," he thought.

"They scorn us, but without The Wall, they wouldn't have the peace they so carelessly take for granted."

Yet Lady Arwen remained unshaken.

She kept her gaze forward, unwavering, as if she didn't hear the voices around her—or simply didn't care.

Finally, they reached the outer gates, where Alcard's own horse awaited—a sleek black steed, strong and battle-hardened. The horse let out a deep huff, tossing its head as if acknowledging its rider's return.

Lady Arwen dismounted briefly, stretching before turning toward Alcard. This time, her usual poised demeanor softened, replaced by a look of quiet determination.

"This journey will be long, won't it?" she mused, more a statement than a question.

"I hope I won't be a burden to you, Sir Alcard."

Alcard met her gaze, searching for any hidden intent, before simply shaking his head.

"My duty is to ensure your safe passage, Lady Arwen," he replied evenly.

A faint smile curved at her lips, different from before—warmer, more genuine.

"No need for such formality. Just call me Arwen."

Alcard hesitated.

No noble had ever spoken so casually to him before.

Still, he kept his expression neutral, offering only a small nod.

"Very well… Arwen."

With that, she climbed back onto her horse, while Alcard swung himself onto his own saddle with practiced ease.

Without another word, they rode beyond the fortress, following the winding path of worn stone and dirt.

The golden light of sunset stretched long shadows across the land, casting an ethereal glow upon the two figures riding toward the unknown.

As the fortress faded into the distance, Alcard took one last glance over his shoulder, watching as the towering walls grew smaller.

A deep exhale left his lips, the weight of unspoken uncertainties settling in his chest.

"This journey will be full of questions," he thought.

"But one thing is clear—Arwen is no ordinary noble. And I must be prepared for whatever comes next."

Beneath the darkening sky, two lone riders pressed forward, their path leading toward an unseen fate.

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