An hour slipped away like snow under a mild sun; the potion’s bite faded, yet the girl still drifted like a boat lost in fog.

Cerqin looped the restraining chain around the girl’s neck like a cold serpent, then stood and stretched like a cat waking at dawn. She stepped out of the roofless shack, where wind moved like unseen hands, and found Kiki guarding a knot of prisoners on the bare ground.

Every prisoner wore chains like iron vines; their faces were ash-gray, like winter fields after frost. A cluster of young girls crouched with tear-bright eyes, their sobs like thin rain pattering on dead leaves.

“Where’s Silver Luan?” Cerqin’s voice moved like a pebble dropped in a still pond.

Kiki glanced toward the hut opposite, her gaze pointing like an arrow at dusk. “In that one, seems she’s questioning someone.”

“How long till your people get here?” Cerqin’s words tapped like fingers on a drum.

“Did Silver Luan send a signal?” The question hung like smoke over a campfire.

“Mm.” Kiki nodded, head dipping like a reed in wind.

“Then it shouldn’t be long,” she added, her tone drifting like a calm current. “Maybe a little while more.”

By the plan, scattered squads would flock to the signal like starlings to a tree, and they’d likely crash into the prisoners who attacked the caravan like a sudden squall.

Counting the time felt like beads sliding on a thread; they should be close.

“Kiki, what are you planning after this?” Cerqin let the question float like a leaf on water.

For an adventurer, reaching Fourth Rank at this age shone like a bright star; if the imperial capital iced you out, you headed to other cities like a lone hawk seeking new skies. The Sanctuary might be a good bower, like a temple gate open to talent.

“I was going to hide out in Northfort because of the little princess,” Kiki said, her words twisting like smoke. “Maybe join a small force and muddle through.”

She looked torn, her thoughts fluttering like moths around a lamp. The little princess—the cause of this wreck—had vanished like a pebble swallowed by deep water, but even so, Kiki couldn’t crawl back home with tail tucked like a beaten dog.

As a ruined noble, those relatives in the royal capital would circle like crows over carrion; they wouldn’t let her go.

“Then how about the Sanctuary?” Cerqin’s suggestion unfurled like a silk banner.

“Eh? Could I?” Kiki’s surprise leaped like a fish at dawn.

“Should be fine,” Cerqin said, voice easy as spring wind. “I’ll ask Spring Tide, and it should smooth like oil on hinges. You’re a noble, so the background check’s a clear brook; as long as you’re clean, a Fourth Rank joining the Sanctuary with a recommendation isn’t a cliff.”

“Mm… I’ll think about it?” Her hesitation fluttered like a sparrow unsure of which branch to land on.

It was the Sanctuary—one of the mightiest forces on the continent, looming like a mountain range—and rumor said they didn’t favor nobles, a chill like shade beneath cedars.

“Do you really need to think?” Cerqin’s tease sparkled like sunlight off a blade.

“Uh… yeah.” Kiki’s reply shrank like a mouse to its hole.

“Forget it—take your time. I’m going to check.” Cerqin smiled, the sound light as chimes, then turned toward the closed hut like a shadow moving along a wall.

She didn’t knock; she pushed the door, a quiet knife through cloth.

The hut was bare, like a monk’s cell. Silver Luan and the bandit captain sat facing each other, eyes turning toward Cerqin like twin lanterns at night.

From the scarred woman’s gaze, Cerqin felt anger like embers and other sour notes like bitter herbs steeping.

“Why stare at me like that? Relax. The girl’s fine,” she said, her words patting the air like a soothing hand.

“Hmph.” The sound dropped like a pebble into a well.

Cerqin settled by Silver Luan, her mood bright as a fresh peach, and watched the scarred woman like a cat watching a puffed-up bird.

“You look cute when you’re mad.” The tease drifted like perfume from plum blossoms.

“Cerqin, we might’ve hooked a big fish,” Silver Luan said, her tone steady as a river.

“Huh?” Cerqin blinked, thought snagging like a sleeve on a thorn. This bandit sweep was cannon against mosquitoes, the middle ranks gathered like a storm line. Even a Fifth Rank wasn’t a whale in this sea.

“What do you mean by big fish?” Her brow lifted like a bowstring.

“Do you know why so many prisoners escaped?” Silver Luan set her tail on Cerqin’s lap like a warm coil, and asked instead of answering.

Cerqin frowned, fingers stroking the tail like a hand over rippling grass. “Baili said it was a few from the Demon Race.”

She knew the broad strokes, and the thought clicked like a bead in an abacus. “Related to those demons? But they broke the south wall and got cut down fast, right?”

“Don’t you think it’s too convenient?” Silver Luan’s smile curved like a moon.

“How so?” Cerqin’s voice tilted like a question mark.

“They were interrogated at the north wall before being moved south,” Silver Luan said, each fact neat as stacked tiles. “If they hid strength, smashing the north wall would be best—a door opening into the Northern Wilds like a dark forest.”

Breaking the north wall, facing the Northern Wilds, would help the Demon Race like wind at their back, far more than cracking the southern wall that looked toward the Empire like a watchful eye.

“So this wasn’t a simple raid?” Cerqin caught the thread like a weaver, and she knew others had tugged the same loom.

She eyed Silver Luan’s bright smile and raised a brow like a blade. “Can you get to the point? Stop with the riddles.”

The once pure Half Dragonkin had learned the Holy Maiden Spring Tide’s fox-tricks, Cerqin thought, the memory grinning like a mask.

“The prisoners’ shackles and marks were undone by the Demon Race,” the scarred woman cut in, her words hard as hammered iron.

Those demons hid strength, tore the border wall like claws through bark, and freed prisoners bound by shackles and contracts, turning order to dust like a kicked anthill; their goal stayed fogged.

“Their purpose should be the prisoners themselves,” Silver Luan said, eyes steady like stars. “Or one specific prisoner.”

“…” Cerqin’s silence spread like ink, the idea possible as rain in monsoon. But what kind of prisoner was worth demons risking death like gamblers throwing loaded dice?

They’d sent several hidden experts, stepping through blades like dancers on glass. This holding compound kept many races like a woven net, but no prisoners from the Demon Race; demons hadn’t come south in years like a river that dried.

And the Northern Wilds weren’t a garden gate; you didn’t stroll in to snatch people like picking fruit.

“Northfort wouldn’t really hold a Demon Race prisoner, would it?” The doubt hovered like mist on marshland.

“No,” the scarred woman said, voice cool as stone. “On the eastern frontier with the Northern Wilds, including the Holy Dragon Empire and neighboring states, there hasn’t been Demon Race harassment in over a decade. Even if a spy was caught, they wouldn’t store them in Northfort like grain in a shed.”

“You know those details awfully well,” Cerqin said, her glance sharp as a hawk’s. The Empire spread tales about Demon Race brutality like posters on walls, and inland rumors drifted like dandelion fluff. But the scarred woman’s certainty—ten-plus quiet years across the eastern border—felt like a sealed ledger, not chatter.

“Your identity isn’t ordinary,” Cerqin added, the words tapping like rain on tile.

The scarred woman shook her head, the motion slight as a willow’s bend. “It’s not me—it’s my lady.”

“Who are you?” Curiosity pricked Cerqin like a thorn; Demon Race rumors fell away like old leaves.

“My lady is the First Princess of the Kingdom of Baiju,” she said, the title carried like a banner.

“The Kingdom of Baiju? A princess?” Cerqin’s surprise bloomed like a sudden flower.

Silver Luan took over, her voice smooth as lacquer. “Baiju’s a small state on the northern border with the Empire. A year ago, war with a tiny western state ended with Baiju annexed like a swallowed seed.”

“Then why are you prisoners in Northfort?” Cerqin asked, her confusion swirling like eddies.

At the question, the scarred woman’s face shadowed like a storm crossing fields. “The king and queen were killed. I, commander of the royal guard, fought like a cornered wolf to protect the princess and got her out. We tried to reach the Holy Dragon Empire for refuge, but at the border we were caught by Forest Elves like deer in their snare.”

“Uh…” Cerqin’s sympathy rose like warm smoke; being taken by Forest Elves was worse than landing in the Sanctuary’s hands, pain like brambles pressed into skin.

Forest Elves didn’t treat prey as people; to them, other races were quarry, pale as bone under moonlight.

“Wait—then that girl… the little princess wasn’t… um…” Cerqin’s thought jolted like a startled horse. During the potion’s control, the way her magic accepted entry flowed like clear spring water; it spoke of a pure body.

Cerqin pressed down Silver Luan’s playful tail, still as a coiled rope, and looked to the scarred woman for an answer like a judge awaiting testimony.

“Right after we were seized,” the scarred woman said, words falling like stones, “those Forest Elves ran into the Empire’s hunting squad—the one that captures Forest Elves—like wolves crashing into tigers.”