"The hell? Why are you late? You do know we're heading outside today, right?" Sylas yelled the moment Soren stepped out of the hallway. He stood there in his thick fur coat, boots locked tight and sword strapped proudly at his hip as if he'd been waiting for an entire century.
Behind him, his twin Lyric leaned casually against a pillar with that annoyingly knowing smirk, while Prince Cael watched quietly with arms crossed, expression unreadable. Alaric, of course, was there too—silent, steady, observant as ever.
"My apologies," Soren said, adjusting the strap of his satchel. "Someone happened to be heavily wounded early this morning, right after I woke up, so I made—"
"Tsk." Sylas clicked his tongue sharply, cutting him off. "So much for an excuse. How irresponsible." He tossed Soren a sideways smirk, turning just enough so the others could see it. "At the very least, you should've done that faster. Or are you slacking?"
"N-no, of course not…" Soren replied with plain tone.
And that was exactly what lit Sylas up.
"How dare you keep talking back to me? Me?" Sylas snapped, taking one aggressive step closer. His irritation wasn't because Soren's words were wrong but because Soren stood there with that damnably calm face, almost emotionless and almost unbothered. As if Sylas's yelling was nothing more than passing wind.
Lyric also let out a low chuckle under his breath. Prince Cael didn't bother to hide his interest either that the faint upward curve of his lips said enough. They were both far too entertained by Sylas losing his composure while Soren blinked slowly, posture steady and eyes cool. He wasn't defying Sylas and he wasn't provoking him.
He was simply there and somehow, that was enough to make Sylas feel like he was being mocked.
That only made Sylas grind his teeth harder.
"You really have some nerve today…" Sylas muttered, voice low, temper simmering hotter the longer he stared into Soren's unreadable expression.
Even Alaric raised a brow at that—not at Soren, but at Sylas.
And Soren?
He merely bowed his head slightly as if all of this was just another part of his morning routine.
After the earlier commotion, the northern fortress finally opened its gates, allowing the assembled unit to march out with their loaded supplies. The cold morning air hit them sharply as they stepped beyond the stone walls. Today, they were heading toward the outskirts—close enough to the beasts' habitat that the ground itself seemed to hold its breath. It wasn't directly within the den of danger, yet far from the safety of the main fortress. A precarious stretch of land where one careless footstep could awaken something feral.
The Imperial Family's military knights had already suffered heavy casualties over the past weeks. Too many bodies carried back and too many healers unable to keep up. Because of this, the Davenmore household had sworn an oath to bolster the defense for as long as needed, and today was their first step in fulfilling that promise.
With the task laid before them, healers became indispensable.
Naturally, Soren was brought along.
He walked among the medical division with three healers and three nurses who specialized in emergency first aid. The other healers, dressed in immaculate robes trimmed with threads of gold and silver, were nobles from the imperial family itself. They stepped lightly, their expressions neither tense nor troubled. They held the privilege to choose where to serve and how far they wished to go. None of them were forced to stand on the frontline or hold the dying in their arms unless they felt inclined to.
Soren, however, was a different story.
A commoner with an extraordinary talent and one the empire refused to waste. He had been bound by contract the moment his ability was confirmed by Alaric. So, whether he liked it or not, he was required to accompany whichever household employed him. Frontline or backline, safety or danger, his life was tethered to their commands.
And his life was at risk. Every time.
Not that Elias, his closest friend knew any of this. Elias believed Soren was living a stable, predictable life within the fortress, tending to small wounds and delivering herbs but he had no idea about this contract… nor the fact that Soren will be repeatedly sent to places where even knights hesitated to step.
Soren adjusted the strap of his satchel, falling quietly into step as the unit marched across the frost-covered field. Boots crunching against ice, breaths forming pale clouds. Ahead, Sylas and Lyric ride the horse with their swords at their sides. Cael's cape swayed with each horse step, and Alaric remained alert, eyes fixed on the path stretching toward the unknown.
And somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of a beast's roar trembled through the wind.
Soren inhaled slowly.
Today would not be easy.
After several hours of riding, they finally reached the fortress grounds and were directed to their designated tents. Soren, as expected, was assigned to the healers' section. The main healer's tent was large, spacious enough to accommodate ten patients at once and the surrounding area held at least five additional tents meant for the wounded. In the far corner stood the noble healer's quarters: sturdy, insulated, and unmistakably well-equipped.
Yet Soren's assigned tent was nothing more than a small hiking tent, barely large enough for a single person. It was thin, flimsy, and utterly unsuitable for the biting northern cold.
In stark contrast, the nobles' tents were practically small houses reinforced with leather walls, thick insulation, proper beds, lanterns, chairs and even tables. Meanwhile, Soren's contained only a thin mattress and a tiny lamp that flickered weakly when touched by the wind.
"I guess I'll have to sleep in the knights' tents if I want to avoid being called a freak again," Soren muttered, glancing around as he walked toward the line of tents holding the wounded. "If I insist on sleeping here, it'll just draw attention. I don't feel cold, but others will think I'm strange."
Before stepping inside one of the tents, he paused and looked back at his own sad little shelter set beside the noble healer's grand tent.
"Hmm… I guess I shouldn't be bothered. And even if I am… what exactly can I do?" he sighed softly before finally entering the ward.