Rescue

The rented room at the inn had nothing special about it: stone walls, dark oak furniture, and a faded crest above the fireplace. Still, it was enough for Ethan Blake.

He still had plenty of money stored in his dimensional ring, earned from guild missions. He could stay there for a few months before needing to take on another mission, or ask the church for help.

Seated at the desk, he ran his eyes over a yellowed map of the capital and nearby regions, making small notes with a quill. The candle flickered, casting his shadow against the walls.

He had arrived there a few days earlier, keeping contact with others to a minimum. He only sent a letter to the local church to let Aeris and the others know he had arrived safely.

Ethan wasn't in a hurry. Even though the kingdom stood on the brink of crisis, he knew he needed more information before doing anything. And he, more than anyone, knew exactly what was supposedly about to happen: an isolated princess, soon to face an assassination attempt within the palace walls. Something planned by the nobles to spark a civil war.

In the novel, it was written as if the princess had no idea it would happen, but after seeing her in person, he had his doubts.

Ethan had no intention of just being a spectator. He planned to rewrite that part of the story.

Outside, the city kept moving. Merchants haggled over prices, patrolling soldiers struck their spears on the ground, and a man read royal decrees aloud in the square.

Ethan watched everything through the half-closed window. Every detail, every rumor he picked up from taverns or overheard in alleyways, could be useful. Even the way people spoke of the princess revealed more than they realized: "too proud," "a sociopath," "I wish she'd step on me." Words tinged with fear, but also with a subtle respect.

In the novel, the hero was told those rumors were false, spread to isolate the princess politically. But Ethan could easily imagine they were all true. The real question was why the princess hadn't even tried to hide it.

At night, a man knocked on his door. A tired-looking messenger, wearing simple but fine-cut clothes, the type paid to see and hear more than he should.

Ethan opened the door, coldly. "Come in."

The man entered, keeping his eyes low. "Sir, I've confirmed what you asked. There's extra movement among the palace's inner guard, and rumors something might happen in the next few days. Possibly an attack."

"I see." Ethan brought a hand to his chin. He showed no surprise; to him, it was merely confirmation of what he already believed.

"And… about the other matter, sir," the messenger hesitated. "Some say the princess has grown even more isolated. Some claim she herself demanded the extra security; others say she's being watched against her will."

Ethan simply nodded, staring at the candle's flame. "Keep watching. And find out exactly who ordered those reinforcements."

"Yes, sir." The man left, as silently as he'd come.

The door closed, leaving Ethan alone again. He crossed his arms, staring into nothingness. The situation was unfolding as he remembered from the novel, but what mattered wasn't just confirming the plot, but finding the best moment to change it.

"I still don't know if she's expecting the worst… or if it's all part of her own plan," he murmured to himself.

Ethan knew stopping the attack wouldn't be enough. He wanted to convince the princess he was on her side. That was where the real challenge lay, because he didn't even know what side the princess was on.

He returned to the map, marking one spot with the quill: the palace's east wing. The exact place where, in the original story, the assassination attempt would happen.

His gaze hardened. "I don't have a choice. Time to step onto the stage."

Dawn arrived quietly, bringing with it a damp cold that seeped through even the thickest walls. Ethan walked the city's less-patrolled streets, his hood pulled low over his face, footsteps carefully placed so they wouldn't echo on the cobblestones.

At that hour, the city showed another face: hidden alleys, doors that opened discreetly, and watchful eyes peering through torn curtains. It was there that secrets were gathered, information no one else was meant to know.

Ethan stopped in front of an unremarkable inn, which he knew served as a meeting point for informants and smugglers. He entered without hesitation. The main hall was nearly empty, except for a few men playing cards and a woman polishing mugs behind the counter.

He sat in a corner, keeping his gaze fixed on the shadows. He didn't need to speak much. The person he was waiting for soon appeared: a short man with a trimmed beard, wearing simple clothes that revealed nothing beyond his cautious nature.

"I heard you've been asking about movements in the palace," the man said, voice rough. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Ethan remained calm. "What's going to happen in the east wing."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to get straight to the point."

"Saves my time. And yours too."

There was a tense moment of silence before the man shrugged. "A hired group from outside, they're not locals. Word is they were paid by someone high up, but nobody knows who."

"The target?" Ethan asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"The usual," the man muttered. "The princess."

Ethan looked away for a moment. "When?"

"Tomorrow at dusk. From what I heard, they plan to strike during the guard change."

Ethan nodded, leaving some coins on the table. "That was useful."

Before he could stand up, the man whispered, "Are you sure about this? Getting involved in something like this… there's no turning back. Even for an A-rank adventurer."

Ethan didn't answer. He slipped out the back door, returning to the dark street.

He had expected the man to know his public identity, probably even his connection to the Church of Aurelia. But it also confirmed that his status as Herald hadn't leaked yet.

Back in the room of the upscale inn, the black hood that had covered his body seemed to sink into his arm. Looking to the side, he stared into a mirror for a moment. His usual smile slowly crept across his face.

All this research and waiting had been itching at him from within. But now, a different kind of thrill ran down his spine, because finally, the real fun was about to begin.

He opened his dimensional ring and took out a small piece of old parchment. This one, taken from Eldranor, bore ancient symbols capable of amplifying magical perception for a short period.

"I need to see this with my own eyes," he murmured.

Ethan closed his eyes, activating the parchment. A warmth coursed through his mind, and his perception of the mana around him became sharper, almost painfully so. He saw the barriers surrounding the palace. And, within those defenses, he noticed strange points: small distortions, traces of energy that didn't belong to the palace.

"Their entrance," he concluded. Someone inside was helping the assassins get through without triggering the alarms.

Ethan blew out the candle and sat at the edge of the bed, letting darkness fill the room.

"They don't know they've already failed," he whispered, almost as a private joke.

In the silence and darkness, his smile only grew.

The night dragged on slowly until, at last, the sun began to dip toward the horizon, painting the palace walls in shades of orange and crimson.

Ethan moved without haste, crossing side courtyards, always keeping clear of patrols and servants. He knew he didn't have to hide too carefully: no one there knew or imagined who he really was.

When the moment came, he was exactly where he wanted to be: among the columns overlooking the inner courtyard. From there, he had a near-complete view of the east wing, where the guards would soon change shifts.

His eyes swept over every shadow until he spotted something different. Three figures, cloaked in dark mantles, moved with a precision that revealed training. They weren't ordinary thieves, they were the hired assassins. Ethan remembered what he'd heard: paid by someone high up.

They advanced without hesitation, and there, in the center of the courtyard, slowly appeared the figure who would be their target. A young woman with a firm posture, wearing a noble dress reinforced with small pieces of leather beneath the fabric: the princess.

She was accompanied only by two ladies-in-waiting and seemed calm, unaware of the danger creeping around her.

Ethan didn't know if he would be the one to save her, or the one to ruin her plan. But he bet he could handle it, whichever turned out to be true.

The assassins leaped from the shadows all at once. The strike was swift: a poisoned dagger.

But the blade never even got close.

Ethan crossed the courtyard in seconds. His steps barely echoed on the stones, and before anyone could grasp what was happening, he was already between the princess and the dagger.

With a movement that seemed almost lazy, Ethan blocked the assassin's arm with his darkened hand, twisted his wrist, and broke the man's elbow with a dry crack. The man fell to his knees, gasping, before being knocked away by a kick that sent him sprawling.

The other two hesitated for just a second but then rushed forward, knowing they couldn't retreat. Ethan sidestepped the first strike with a small step, grabbed the attacker's hood, and slammed his face into the nearby wall.

The third, finding himself alone, tried to flee, but Ethan caught up to him before he could reach the gate. A twist of the neck, and it was over.

When silence returned to the courtyard, the princess was still standing there, staring straight into Ethan's eyes with a calm and, surprisingly, apathetic expression.

"Who… who are you?" she asked, her voice soft.

Looking into her eyes was like staring into an abyss. As if she could see through to his soul.

The hood still hid part of his face. The twilight painted his profile in warm hues. He didn't answer right away.

Instead, he studied her for a brief moment. She clearly already knew what was coming. But did she have a way to stop them, or had that never been part of her plan?

"Me? I'm just a traveler passing through, remember that," he finally said, in a playful tone.

The guards, late to arrive, came running in, alarmed by the muffled screams of the ladies-in-waiting. Ethan simply raised his hands, as if to show he meant no harm.

There was no immediate gratitude. Only a heavy silence, where she seemed to weigh every word before speaking.

And it was in that moment, through the abyss of her eyes, that Ethan saw something he didn't like.

The princess gave a smile just like his own. As if her boring world had finally offered her something entertaining after a long time.