“There’s no need for me to answer to something I don’t intend to do,” Ren said, his tone final, much to Hazel’s dismay.
His words hit her like a sudden gust.
She’d held onto a fragile hope ever since she first arrived in the south and discovered this town—a place Ren had built from the ground up, defying the odds. The sight had reignited a spark within her, a chance to reclaim what had been wrongfully taken from her family.
It was naïve of her, she realized now, to believe Ren would leap at the opportunity for power the moment it beckoned. A man as shrewd as him would need more than a mere promise of authority. He would need a proper reason. A reason that mattered.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. What she was about to do would strip away the last shreds of her dignity. But dignity was a luxury she could no longer afford—not when her people’s future hung in the balance.
Setting aside her knife and roast, she rose from the log, her movements slow and deliberate. Ren watched her with a hint of curiosity, unsure of her next move.
“Ren Canahy,” she began, her voice unwavering, “I’m begging you to save my country.”
Ren sighed, a flicker of sympathy breaking through his otherwise stoic expression. “With all due respect, Princess, I already gave you my answer.”
Hazel’s response was immediate. Without a word, she lowered herself to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground before him. She was the kind of leader who placed her people above all else , and hence why they all loved and were loyal to her.
Ren’s eyes widened in shock. “There’s no need for that,” he said, reaching for her shoulders to help her stand.
“No,” she replied firmly, shrugging him off. “I will not move until you agree to my request.”
" You're the princess of this country and I'm just a chief of a small town. Please get up," Ren insisted.
Just then, Ogren appeared, taking in the sight of the princess kneeling before Ren. His hand went instantly to his sword, rage flashing across his face.
“What is the meaning of this?” he thundered, advancing on Ren. “How dare you let the princess debase herself?”
“Calm down,” Ren said, holding up a hand. “Help her up if you want—she’s refusing to listen to me.”
“Of course she won’t listen to you!” Ogren roared, grabbing Ren by the collar and tightening the grip to choke Ren. “She’s the princess. You should be the one obeying and kneeling before her, not the other way around!”
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Ren’s expression darkened, but he kept his voice level. “Let go of me, or I’ll break your nose.”
Ogren’s only response was a sneer. “Learn your place, lowly chief.” With that, he struck Ren across the face, the blow hard enough to send him back a few steps.
Ogren blinked in surprise as Ren stayed upright. The young lad wasn’t as large as him, yet he barely staggered.
“I warned you,” Ren said, stepping forward and landing a sharp punch across Ogren’s jaw. The larger man stumbled back, his hands going instinctively to his face.
Hazel, realizing the discord her actions had caused, raised her head. “Ogren, stop!” she commanded rising to her feet, her voice tight with frustration. “I am here by my own choice, and I won’t leave until Chief Ren agrees.”
Ogren, still fuming, glanced at her in confusion. “What request, Princess?”
“We need him, Ogren,” she replied, her gaze shifting to Ren. “If Ren becomes king, he could save our country.”
Ren’s eyes softened for a moment, though his gaze remained wary on Ogren. “We can discuss this matter properly,” he offered, his voice calm but resolute.
Realizing the late hour, he added, “Perhaps it’s best we continue this conversation tomorrow.”
----------------------------------------
The mansion was large but surprisingly unadorned, its design almost stark in its simplicity. The living room and kitchen stood out as the only truly furnished spaces, while the other rooms remained bare and utilitarian, locked away behind plain doors.
When Hazel was shown to her quarters, she found the setup odd.
The room was spacious but felt underutilized, containing only a modest six-by-six-foot bed, a plush white carpet of high-thread count, and a walk-in dressing room tucked in the far right corner. For a mansion of this size, Ren’s architectural choices seemed remarkably subdued, bordering on spartan.
Ogren, having committed Hazel’s quarters to memory, chose to retire to the barracks rather than the comfortable living quarters Ren had offered him.
To accept such luxury while his homeland was in crisis felt dishonorable to him, a compromise he refused to make. Ren, recognizing the futility of arguing with the proud soldier, had Magron assign Ogren to a small cabin instead.
With his responsibilities seen to, Ren finally retreated to his own room, seizing a quiet moment to rest and reflect.
When he first found himself in the world of Pangea, all he’d wanted was a life of quiet stability. Through his efforts, he’d built Haven Town, a community designed to function seamlessly without much of his daily involvement—a place that, theoretically, could sustain him for a lifetime.
Magron managed the southern raiders with an unyielding hand, keeping the once-rowdy warriors in check and allowing Ren time to focus on other matters of leadership.
The raiders now formed a powerful security force, one that solidified Ren’s hold on the region and established a monopoly on power unlikely to be challenged.
Taxes from Haven’s residents gradually increased his wealth, and as long as the town flourished, its people seemed content under his leadership. He suspected their loyalty to him even exceeded their loyalty to Aropia’s central government.
Everything had been perfect.
It could have remained that way if only the king had heeded his warnings about the Drakonian Kingdom. Now, Ren’s carefully crafted life faced disruption, and he was torn.
He could either leave Aropia’s fate to the winds or step out of his comfort zone to steer it back on course—a choice that felt fraught with risk.
Despite declining Hazel’s plea, Ren now felt the nagging weight of responsibility pulling him in her direction. If he did nothing, the wrong people would take over Aropia, threatening the peace he had worked so hard to build in Haven town.
He was wary of Hazel’s cause and yet aware of the potential dangers in leaving it unaddressed. The temptation to keep his distance wavered against the growing realization: the only way to preserve his quiet life in Haven might be to step into the very chaos he had tried so hard to avoid.
The decision weighed heavily.