The tunnels below the King's palace had been designed to be easily accessible by those who knew their way around the palace grounds. With the passage leading not outside the castle, but out of Brensfell itself, it served as the best escape route in the case of a life threatening emergency.

But neither the King–who'd ordered the tunnels be completed the moment he rose to power–nor the Queen–who'd added a touch of her own ideas to the design–had been able to use the route to escape and live on.

The throne room now stood empty save for Fall, a corpse and a severed head slowly smouldering to ashes. A measure of silence had prevailed, more decent compared to the chaos raging outside. The knights fought off the remaining white cloaks, screams, the clash of weapons, the roars of fire all echoing into the spacious room.

A white cloak had stumbled into the room, observed the place and paled once he'd gotten an inkling of what transpired inside. Before he could fully react though, Fall incinerated him right on the spot, his flames never making a single sound as it burned its prey. Like a slithering snake or a skilled assassin.

Given the general condition of the palace, and the fact that he might've entered the room only minutes after the human had, it was safe to assume that the Queen had used the entrance to the tunnels hidden in this place. Or, if she'd directly came here from her chambers, she'd used the one in there to hide her daughter, and had lured her enemies here to keep the place relatively safe.

Each entrance to the tunnels connected to the main route which was a wide road that led straight to a small manor outside Brensfell. Fall and the other Knights had been made to follow the route three times to have it ingrained in their memories. Whatever entrance Sirf might've followed, he'd still be able to find her if she was already at the main road.

A small space, just wide enough to pass through, separated the throne from the wall behind it. Not much could be thought of that space, could be a fashion of sorts. Fall walked to the space and went to his knees, ran his hand on the warm floor.

Then he punched the floor with his fist, smashing it to bits.

A hole opened up beneath the cracked floor, the sound of the rubble hitting ground in the darkness below barely audible. The metal ladder was hotter than most other things as he climbed down to the tunnel. The only way he could close off this path was by destroying road, sealing off the place with rubble.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness, the path becoming clearer with a faint light at the end. His safest bet to find Sirf was to check the main route first. But it could be that she truly had no idea on how to navigate this place. He walked towards the light, specks of dust still floating around as he treaded.

Beyond the dark passage was a torch lit maze, with the roads on each corner seeming smaller than the one on which he stood. The warmth of the place enveloped him, stirring some energy in his body. Though everywhere was deathly silent, he could somehow tell that there was someone in here.

And they were close by.

It took him a few turns and corners to get to the main road. It was a monotone of dim stone roads at first, but that seized when he saw a figure sitting by the wall to his right. A very little figure, alone on the floor with hands wrapped around legs and a little head resting on knees. A cascade of black locks, turning white from the roots, shielded most parts of the small body, the ends of the hair spread all around her.

He approached the little girl, his clinking footsteps startling her awake when he was close. She looked up at him, blank and dead eyes seeming to be staring right through him and at the wall behind. Her lips were dry, her dark reddish skin already lost some colour and her horns were hardly visible beneath her mass of hair.

“Mr. Iskar…” Her voice barely reached his ears despite the surrounding silence.

“Call me Fall.” He knelt before her, checking for any injuries she might've sustained. But she seemed fine, if only haunted.

Her eyes swept the place, perhaps checking if he had company. He only shook his head in reply, which caused her gaze to fall to the ground, her hair shielding her face.

“Can you stand?” She gave a meek nod, her dispirited demeanor casting familiarity over his mind. Together they got up, her small hand almost entirely devoured in his.

She seemed no more than ten circles, comparable to a human of six years or a Skybeing of twenty. Her light footsteps were completely overshadowed by the clink-clank of his boots. She'd noticed the pendant on the chain wrapped around his hand, swaying with their movement. He'd seen the slight downturn on her lips as she looked away.

They walked without a single word uttered between them for a long time, their pace unhurried but not quite relaxed. Though he'd sealed the place, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be attacked. Someone might've found another entrance, or a betrayer might've revealed this secret.

The latter was more likely possible, if anything. The monarchs of Holtsdar may be loved by many, but it would be unnatural if they had no enemies. Fall had seen them, those filled with scorn on supposed days of merriment, those who always found faults. Those that believed they could do better, should they be in this hard sought position.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

He'd easily believe that the white cloaks were brought in by that betrayer. And wisdom would allow them to be thorough when trying to be completely rid of the royal bloodline.

All this madness could simply be just another form of politics.

They continued for another long while. It would take them about a day and a half to get out of this tunnel. He just realised he might've at least taken some rations to keep them going for this impromptu journey. Though, given the situation, that probably wouldn't have been possible anyway.

Somehow, Sirf's weight increased slightly as they walked. He glanced over to see her dozing off, her footsteps significantly slower than before.

He stopped, and she walked two steps ahead, still in a daze, until she realised the pause. She blinked rapidly, possibly to hide her grogginess, or to force herself awake.

“Tired?” She shook her head fiercely, but a big yawn escaped her mouth, betraying her claim. “We can take a break.”

She didn't protest, just let him guide her to one side of the wall. Something seemed to be locked up inside her, almost like a storm strongly unwilling to set itself free. He'd seen people who did that, made him wonder how they bore such heavy burdens within them. These burdens they called emotions.

Together they sat, their backs to the wall. Sirf leaned her head on the wall and was soon fast asleep. He watched her breathing steadily, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Exhaustion started to overcome him too, his eyes growing a bit heavy. So much had happened that he realised he hadn't exactly closed his eyes for a rest for probably more than a day now.

From the Knights’ early departure for their mission to the chaos that ensued after, anyone who'd gone through all these might be too frightened to catch some sleep. Fall was more concerned about the possibility of the girl being taken away while he slept. So he rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, to keep him up and alert.

At some point, Sirf had leaned away from his side and had lied on the ground, using her hands as a pillow. He peeled his gaze from her and looked up at the dark ceiling of the passage, the gloom providing no form of company or comfort. This part of the road bore some branches at the sides, narrower roads possibly leading to dead ends now that they were out of the palace.

A soft sniffle caught his attention. Small and harmless, they came beside him and he turned his head towards the girl.

She was crying in her sleep.

The tears flowed freely from her closed eyes, sorrow awash on her dormant face. What had been locked up in her eyes while they were open, they only had the privilege to be released when closed. Her sorrow must be from so many things. So many incidents forming layers which she can only peel from herself with tears.

How did Fall peel those layers? They came off themselves, with him paying them no heed. People found that highly impossible. Someone once told him, in the Human Realm, that a part of one's self had to be killed to achieve such feat.

He hadn't really understood their meaning.

So he just watched the girl setting her emotions free. Lessening her burdens, at least. That was good.

Light footsteps echoed in the hall. Fall whipped his head towards the sound. Oddly enough, the sound came from the opposite direction, the road ahead of them. Had someone been here before them? An ambush, maybe?

The footsteps seemed cautious, careful and light as they came, probably aware of their presence. He carefully removed his armour one by one, from the plates to his boots, ridding himself of any metal that could ruin his stealth.

He approached the sound on bare feet, keeping his eyes peeled for the source. It seemed to be coming from the narrow corners on both sides of the road. He stopped before one of the archways, enveloped in darkness and bearing more secrets than it let on.

Something suddenly appeared out the corner of his eye. He prepared his hand, ready to draw out his sword, but paused once he got a good look at what was there.

It almost looked like a statue. One made of fine porcelain crafted by the most gifted of hands. It appeared to depict the beings of good and beauty that humans called Angels. Except that the eyes were trained on him. The figure stood unmoving by the wall across from him, almost harmless if its whole figure weren't engulfed in an aura thick with hostility.

Fall took a few steps back, the crystalline eyes followed, but the being still moved not an inch. Though it seemed like it would attack at any moment, it simply only watched him. With those eyes still bored into him, he returned to pick Sirf on his back. This place didn't seem so safe as it was supposed to be anymore.

With her head resting on his shoulder and her arms around his neck, her hair fell over his arm like a gentle stream. He carefully tucked it behind her ear while holding her still with one hand beneath her knee and his back bent forward. It was to no avail though, for the hair still flopped back once he stood straight.

Leaving his armour behind, and ignoring the motionless creature, he entered the archway, only to be greeted with a sudden yelp of surprise by the darkness.

Except it wasn't the darkness that screamed, it was a short sturdy old netherman with a thick beard covering half of a face that showed much less courage than his form suggested.

“Ah, don't harm me!” The man shrank back, holding his hands before his face. “Didn't do nothin’! Just passin’ by…” He only just seemed to realise Fall wasn't exactly holding a sword or a bar of flame to his face. His hand fell to his sides but he still wasn't entirely at ease.

“You were… passing by…” Fall narrowed his eyes at him, very certain that this entire tunnel wasn't the sort to pass by.

The old man noticed his suspicion and shrank further back. “I swear! Just came out for a stroll is all. My home is just ahead, I'll head back now!” His eyes flicked to the sleeping girl on his back and to him, his panic still high.

Home? Either this man took Fall for a fool or he wasn't right in the head. Both could be the case. He might've entered through the house at the end of the tunnels, or through the palace. But the latter was highly impossible. Or had he used a portal ring?

He observed the man. Simple brown clothing, a bit tattered at the edges, scars on his face and arms, some like scratch marks. An old warrior, perhaps? Definitely not in the status to own a portal ring.

He sensed the disbelief on Fall's face amd piped up again! “I can show ya! Not too far, ya can get back quickly! Just a small village is all…”

Fall nodded to the man, his eyes never leaving him for a second. “Lead the way.” Might as well see what he was on about.