The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the cracked dirt path leading back to the farm. The rhythmic creak of the cart wheels was the only sound for most of the journey, save for the occasional grunt of effort as Gabriel adjusted the load.

Sorin, walking at Gabriel’s side, glanced over with a sly grin. “So, about the noble in the market…”

Gabriel didn’t bother to look at him. “What about him?”

Sorin leaned in, clearly enjoying himself. “You gave him money.”

“Your powers of observation are truly remarkable,” Gabriel said flatly.

“What I’m saying is, that doesn’t sound like you,” Sorin teased. “Generosity isn’t exactly in your wheelhouse.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Figured it’d make him leave faster.”

“And now he’s probably out there telling everyone how kind you are,” Sorin continued, his grin widening. “Kyros’ newest philanthropist, Gabriel Reyes.”

Jordan, trailing behind with his usual calm pace, glanced at the path ahead. “Do you think he’ll actually stick around in Kyros? Doesn’t seem like the kind of place he’d survive.”

Gabriel shrugged. “That’s not my problem. Let him figure it out.”

Sorin tilted his head with a smirk. “We both know he’ll find a way to bother us again. It’s in the noble DNA—drawn to trouble like moths to flame.”

Gabriel let out a dry laugh. “Let’s just hope he flames out before dragging us into it.”

When the trio finally arrived at the farm, Gabriel stopped dead in his tracks. Standing near the entrance to the fields, looking as out of place as a bird in a wolf’s den, was the noble from the market.

Alexander’s once-fine clothes were even dirtier now, streaked with dust and grime from the road. His face was flushed, and his posture betrayed exhaustion, but he still managed to stand with a certain stubborn dignity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

Sorin, never one to miss an opportunity, elbowed Gabriel lightly. “Looks like your generosity came back to bite you.”

The noble stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the three of them. “Gabriel Reyes?”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “How do you know my name?”

Alexander hesitated before answering, his tone careful. “When I asked around the market, they said you run this farm. It wasn’t hard to find.”

“Great,” Gabriel said dryly. “Remind me to thank whoever decided to share that information.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What do you want?” Sorin interjected, leaning against the cart with an almost bored expression.

Alexander straightened his back, trying to project confidence despite his worn appearance. “I came to ask for a chance. I’ll work—do whatever is needed. Just... don’t send me away.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened, his irritation evident. “This isn’t a charity.”

“I’m not asking for charity,” Alexander said quickly. “I’ll earn my keep.”

Gabriel turned to Sorin and Jordan, his voice low. “This is a bad idea.”

Sorin shrugged, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s a terrible idea. But it’s also the most interesting thing to happen in weeks.”

Jordan remained quiet, his dark eyes studying Alexander intently. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “He doesn’t look like trouble.”

“That’s because you didn’t hear him rambling in the market,” Gabriel shot back. “The last thing we need is a clueless noble bringing attention to this place.”

Sorin crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Come on, Gabriel. How much damage can one guy do? Besides, it might be fun watching him struggle.”

Gabriel sighed, rubbing his temple as though warding off an oncoming headache. “Fine. One week. If he slows us down or complains, he’s gone.”

Alexander followed them to the edge of the property, where a small, leaning shed stood half-hidden behind the main house. The structure looked like it could collapse with a stiff breeze, its roof patched haphazardly with mismatched shingles.

“This is where you’ll stay,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the door. “It’s not much, but it’s better than sleeping in the dirt.”

Alexander stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral as he took in the creaky cot, the rickety chair, and the musty smell of old wood.

He turned back to Gabriel, his voice steady. “Thank you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s see how long you last.”

Sorin, leaning casually against the doorframe, gave Alexander a once-over. “You’ll be up at dawn. No excuses, no exceptions.”

Alexander nodded. “Understood.”

“Good,” Gabriel said, already walking away. “You’ve got a lot to prove.”

The smell of stew hung in the air as the group gathered around a small fire near the house. The meal was simple—bread, scraps of meat, and a thin broth—but after a long day, it was more than enough.

Alexander sat on an overturned crate, his posture rigid despite his obvious exhaustion. Sorin watched him with open amusement, while Gabriel stared into the flames, his expression unreadable.

“So,” Sorin began, breaking the silence, “what do we call you? Your Grace? Your Highness? Or are you fine with just Alexander?”

Alexander’s jaw tightened, but he answered calmly. “Alexander Veridan is fine.”

“Alexander Veridan it is,” Gabriel said, his tone neutral. “We’ll see if you’re still fine with it after tomorrow.”

Jordan, who had been quietly eating, glanced at Alexander. “What brought you to Kyros?”

Alexander hesitated, his gaze dropping to the fire. “I... lost my place. My family cast me out. Kyros was the only place I could go where the name Veridan wouldn’t matter.”

Sorin raised an eyebrow. “Kyros, huh? Bold choice for a noble. Most people come here to disappear, not to start over.”

Alexander didn’t reply, his attention fixed on the flickering flames.

Gabriel finally spoke, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, congratulations. You’ve officially joined the land of the forgotten.”

As the fire burned low, Gabriel lingered, staring up at the stars scattered across the dark sky. The land was quiet now, save for the faint rustling of the wind through the fields.

He thought about Alexander—his stiff formality, his desperation barely hidden beneath a polished exterior. Something about him didn’t sit right, though Gabriel couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like someone clinging to a life that no longer existed.

“Just one week,” Gabriel muttered to himself, shaking his head. “He won’t last.”

As Sorin leaned back against the cart, he smirked. “Well, Gabriel, looks like the farm just got a little more interesting.”

Gabriel shot him a tired look. “If this goes wrong, you’re cleaning up the mess.”

Sorin’s grin widened. “I’ll make sure to take notes.”