Behind the Royal Mask

Unwanted Proposals, Unfair Deals

"The weight of the world isn't always about what we carry—it's about who's waiting to remind us we don't have to carry it alone."

"If you've had your fun, could we get going?" Derin asked, glancing at the two unconscious guards. The second one lay sprawled on the ground, being dragged by Finn toward the other guard Beatrice had knocked out. Finn tied them back to back with a tight knot of rope.

Meanwhile, the other two members of the Vigil retrieved medical supplies from the carriage. Beatrice opened one of the large wooden boxes, revealing herbs, spices, and small glass bottles filled with dark liquids. She sighed in satisfaction, hoping the supplies would be enough for now.

"Get these to the Fort," Beatrice instructed Finn. The Fort was an old, crumbling watchtower far beyond the town's borders, long abandoned due to fears it might collapse at any moment. Naturally, the Vigil had taken it over, operating from the shadows of its ruined halls.

"Distribute them to the sick this evening," she added as Finn loaded the crates back into the carriage, which was set to be driven by the 'pregnant woman' and her 'husband'—a disguise they'd perfected for such trips. Bea had to admit, Derin's plan had been clever.

"I wonder what we'd be doing if the Vigil didn't need to exist," Derin mused, his tone uncharacteristically thoughtful.

"You'd probably be working on a farm," Beatrice replied.

"I hope to do that one day," he said wistfully. "I dream of a time when there's no need for the Vigil... and my biggest concern is growing wheat."

"You might be waiting a long time," she said dryly.

"I was hopeful when I heard the Crown Prince was given partial control of the kingdom when he turned eighteen. He even promised to reduce taxes."

"Promises from aristocrats mean little," Beatrice countered. "You can't trust a noble. It's always left to common folk like us to set things right."

"You heading home?" Derin asked, mounting his horse again as the others departed.

"Against my better judgment, yes," Beatrice replied,  "Mother will kill me when I get there."

"She'd have to get through me first, my lady," Derin said in an exaggerated, noble tone, sitting upright on his horse.

"You're so corny," she laughed, pulling herself up onto her own horse.

"Every lady falls for my charms," he said, grinning. "And then there's you."

"I pity them," she quipped, loosening the red cloth from her hair and letting it fall around her shoulders.

Derin suddenly fell quiet. Beatrice noticed him staring at her, a strange look crossing his face. She snapped her fingers in front of him, confused.

He blinked, clearing his throat awkwardly. "We... shouldn't keep your mother waiting any longer," he said, digging his heels lightly into his horse to get it moving.

Beatrice chuckled to herself as they rode off into the night. The rhythm of the horse's hooves, the cool night air, and the sense of freedom always made her feel alive. Here, in the quiet between towns and troubles, it was easy to forget the weight of everything she carried.

As they sped along the trees, the cool wind carried the scent of damp earth and pine trees to them. She glanced at Derin who wore a calm expression instead of his usual playful one. She felt at ease with him here, as if they had been born for such a life.

"You're quiet," she remarked finally.

Derin looked back at her and said, "Just trying to be at peace before the storm."