After questioning Gilles about the camp's layout, Roel made his way slowly around the area. As usual, the rations and loot were stored in the middle of the camp, close to the prince’s tent. It wouldn’t be too hard to secure the monster’s bloody pelt for tomorrow night. The number of soldiers doing patrols had increased since they had entered Ferdinand’s Woods, but they wouldn’t be a problem either.

So, with everything in place, he was surprised to find someone waiting for him at his tent.

“Taking a walk to clear your head, Sir Roel?” Joseph Chastain asked with a polite tilt of his head.

“Yes, it was hard to sleep.” He tried to infer the reason for Joseph’s visit. Was he trying to confirm the details of the assassination? Or did he come on the prince’s behalf? Either way, he couldn’t let anything slip until he was sure. “I’m sorry, you must’ve waited a long time for me.”

It was quite late. Most of the soldiers had already gone to sleep, and the moon, though hazy and obfuscated, was high in the sky.

“It’s fine. I just came to check up on you. I’m sure you’ve had a lot of people approach you, especially after you killed that beast.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Just let me know if anyone goes too far to get your attention. I’ll sort them out.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Roel said. And he did – Joseph seemed sincerely apologetic. But he was more confused now about the man’s visit. Was that really all he came for?

It seemed that Joseph could sense his confusion because he cleared his throat. “What do you think about the prince?”

“Prince Ghislain?” The right adjective was important. “He’s…discerning.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It's small things.” During his patrol, he had talked to the other soldiers or eavesdropped on groups when he could. “The soldiers think that he can be sullen and stringent, but they seem to have some manner of respect for him. Duties are carefully delegated, and I haven’t heard many complaints. Seems like he disciplined them well during the siege.”

“Yes,” Joseph said with a pleased smile. “I know how the prince might seem at first, but that keeps people in check. Some of the men were displeased with the lack of battles and wanted to raze the city, but His Majesty talked them down. In the end, we didn’t lose many men, and we didn’t have any mutinies or runaways. I don’t think that can be said about many battles.”

He thought of the battles fought under King Maxime. “No, I suppose not. And I noticed foreigners among your troops.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Joseph asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If anything, it’s good to know that His Majesty has a keen eye for talent.”

“Prince Ghislain does not discriminate. I understand that some of our troops might have an unfavorable opinion towards Rados and his men, but we will not tolerate any in-fighting.” Joseph’s eyes met his. “We welcome everyone here.”

And that was when Roel realized that Joseph had nothing to do with the prince’s assassination. He couldn’t call it irrefutable evidence, but he knew it from the soft passion in the man’s words and the sincerity in his brown eyes. He had met his fair share of traitors and backstabbers to know that this man was not one. But then, why was he specifically told to keep him alive?

“We have been watching you,” Joseph said, “and the prince thinks that you could be an important member of our dukedom.”

“You want me to become Brackith’s Guardian?” He couldn’t tell if he was surprised or suspicious. Although it was uncommon, Divine Paladins could swear their fealty to a region and reside as a Guardian. However, this was often done by older paladins who were weary of traveling or had been offered a significant amount of power or wealth from a noble. A paladin of his age would almost always refuse the offer; there were more riches and renown to be won by remaining loyal to the Palace of Yvailles.

“No, no. I don’t think you’d want that, anyway. Come with me. The prince will explain it better.”

Roel reluctantly followed him back to the tent. He never let his guard down. It was possible that the prince had learned of the assassination and this was a trap. He thought Joseph too honest to be capable of deceiving him, but he could and had been wrong in the past.

The inside of the prince’s tent was overwhelmingly dark. Again, there were two candles on the desk, but their flames were waning, and the prince stood between the candles, his shadow split into several dancing behind him.

Surprisingly, the prince greeted him first. “Sir Roel,” he said slowly. “It’s good to see that you’ve made the wise choice of accepting my offer.”

“Actually,” Joseph cleared his throat, “I decided it might be better for him to hear it from you.”

Even with the poor lighting, the annoyed expression on the prince’s face was obvious. “Did we not agree that you would do the convincing?”

“You’re much better with words,” Joseph said with a grin.

“I don’t want –”

“Your Majesty,” Roel interrupted, “what is it that you seek from me?” Normally, he would’ve stayed quiet until he was spoken to, but now he was curious. An air of conspiracy, it seemed to him, hung in the air.

“Well…” The prince looked at him, his dark eyes calculating. “It’s simple, isn’t it? I’m looking for strong men to join me."

“I am stronger than the average mercenary, no doubt, but I think I would be the wrong man for the job, Your Majesty.” Being the prince, Ghislain must know the secret about the paladins’ rankings. So, he couldn’t understand why the prince was interested in him. "If you’re looking for a Guardian, might I suggest Sir Orlando? He is far stronger than I.”

“That romantic braggart?” The prince laughed. “No, that is a man who will always put his own ideals before his own rational thinking. When I say ‘strong,’ I’m referring to temperament.

“And I don’t need you to be a Guardian. I only require your assistance for one task.”

“And this task is…?”

“I would like to die,” the prince said, and although he said it softly, his words seemed to fill the dimly lit tent.