The ceasefire between Eiden and Emily lasted exactly one day.
They were in Sir Nikal's chemistry class, Eiden sketching the layout of the school's ground floor in his notebook, when the door swung open.
Madam Cullin entered, looking flustered. "My apologies, Sir Nikal. We have a new student. She has just arrived from Paris. Please welcome... Linda."
A girl with expensive clothes and a bored, angry expression walked in. She looked around the room as if it were a stable. Her eyes scanned the students, dismissing them.
This was Linda. She did not want to be here. Her mother, Mouna, was hysterical with worry. With the war escalating in France, Mouna had begged her powerful brother-in-law, Akuma Cronus, for help.
Akuma's late wife, Triste (Mouna's sister), had been dead for years. But Akuma, as the grim patriarch of the family, extended his protection. "Send her to St. Swithin's," he had commanded. "I will keep her safe."
Linda just thought it was a school in the middle of nowhere, full of English peasants.
Her eyes scanned the room and then landed on Emily. A slow, cold smile spread across her face. "Well, well. Cousin Emily. I see you're still dressing like a nun."
The class went silent. Emily's face, usually so controlled, tightened. "Linda. What a... surprise. I thought you were busy enjoying the war."
"It got boring," Linda said, walking past the teacher and choosing an empty desk. She dumped her bag. "Uncle Akuma insisted."
Her eyes moved from Emily and landed on Eiden, who was sitting next to her. She looked him up and down. His clothes were simple, patched. He didn't look like someone, Emily would let sit next to her.
"And who is this?" Linda asked, her voice full of disgust. "A new pet?"
Emily smirked. "Careful, Linda. This one bites."
Linda laughed, a high, mocking sound. "Oh, does it?" She looked right at Eiden. "Hello? I'm talking to you, peasant."
Eiden didn't even look up from his notebook.
Linda's eyes narrowed. "Hello? I'm talking to you."
Eiden slowly looked up. He stared at her for a long second, his green eyes blank. "I don't speak spoiled," he said.
A few students gasped. Harry snorted. Linda's face went red. "You filthy gutter rat! Do you have any idea who I am?"
"No," Eiden said, and went back to his drawing. "And I don't care."
"You—!"
"Linda," Emily's voice cut through. It was ice. "Sit down. You're making noise." For the first time, Eiden saw Emily smirk. Linda looked from Emily to Eiden and back, her hands balled into fists. She was furious. But she sat.
The rest of the day was a new experience all together. Linda made comments about Eiden's "cheap" clothes. She "accidentally" knocked his books off his desk. She called him "Emily's dog" to anyone who would listened.
Eiden ignored her. He was a stone. This only made her angrier. She was jealous of Emily. Always had been. Emily was a Cronus, the daughter of the great Akuma. Linda was just a relative, a guest. And now, this... this nothing... was ignoring her for Emily.
That evening, Linda was in her new, private dorm room. She was furious. This school was a dump, her cousin was a witch, and her new "pet" was an arrogant pig.
She needed to talk to someone. She picked up the phone and asked the school operator to place a long-distance call to a military line. To her cousin, Maverick.
The operator connected her. The line crackled, then a familiar, far-too-cheerful voice came through. "Cronus."
"Mav!" Linda complained, flopping onto her bed. "This place is awful! It's full of peasants, and Emily is being a total—"
"Lin, shut up and listen," Maverick's voice was suddenly serious. The "charming idiot" was gone. "Did you get there safe?" "Yes, but—" "Good. Now, you stay out of trouble. And you stay near Emily." "Why? So I can watch her play princess with her new poor boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend?" Maverick said, interested. "Oh, the brawler. Good. That's... good." "What are you talking about? And what's this I hear about an 'attack' on Emily? The one you didn't tell me about?"
Maverick went silent. The line crackled. "You're old enough," he sighed. "You should know. This is not a game, Lin. You're not in Paris anymore." "What's going on, Mav?"
"It's about father" Maverick said, his voice low. "After the first war, he wasn't just a businessman. He was something completely different from now. He has made many... enemies over the years. Powerful ones. When he moved to England, he started out as a simple man."
"Uncle Akuma? Simple? He's the scariest man in England."
"Exactly. This group, this 'Syndicate' as Father calls them... they wanted his expertise. His contacts. He refused. Then they wanted his land. Specifically, the land St. Swithin's is built on. They were ready to pay him 100 times what it was worth. He said no."
"Why?" Linda asked.
"I have no idea what father sees in this crappy land."
Linda's blood went cold. "I don't think Uncle would tell Emily about something like this, He has always kept things from her."
"So, they attacked him," Maverick continued. "Directly. A full assault on his manor. They thought he was just a businessman. They found out he was... well, Akuma. They lost. Badly. Akuma... he's not just a man, Lin. He's a force. The Syndicate went silent for fifteen years. They licked their wounds. They waited."
"And?"
"And now they're back. The war has given them cover. They know they can't beat Akuma in a fair fight. So they're not going to fight fair. They want leverage. They want the one thing he can't stand to lose."
A cold dread settled over Linda. "Emily."
"Yes. The attack on her. That wasn't random, Lin. That was them. That was the opening move. And now you're there. You're in the middle of it."
Linda was silent.
"So," Maverick said, his voice suddenly light again, the charming idiot back. "Be nice to your cousin. She's got enough problems. And I heard she has a new bodyguard? This Eiden kid?"
"He's a pig," Linda spat.
"Well, this pig might be the only thing that keeps you all from getting slaughtered. You just... keep an eye on her. For me. And stay out of trouble." He hung up.
Eiden was in his dorm room, sketching a map of the school's ventilation shafts from memory. He was restless. His investigation had hit a wall. He had a target—"Evergreen"—but no path.
He heard a soft tap... tap... tap on his window.
Eiden froze. He was on the third floor. He looked at the window. Nothing. He went back to his map. TAP... TAP... TAP...
He stood. He walked slowly to the window and unlatched it. It swung open into the cold, damp night. A huge, dark-feathered Eagle Owl was sitting on his windowsill. Eiden stared at it. The owl stared back, its huge, yellow eyes unblinking. It was a creature from his mountains. It did not belong here.
"You're far from home," Eiden whispered. The owl hooted softly and stuck out its leg. Tied to it, with a simple leather thong, was a small, rolled-up piece of parchment. Sadly, It was not a letter for Hogwarts. It was a Wolf's summons.
Eiden's fingers were fast. He untied the note. It was a single line of code, in a script he knew well. The Hare is in the open field. He has a carrot for you.
Eiden's blood went cold. "The Hare" was the code name for one of their few English spies, a man named Alistair. The "open field" was a small, rural village in the countryside called Bletchworth. And the "carrot" was new information.
The owl, its job done, launched from the sill and vanished into the fog. Eiden shut the window. He was leaving. Now.
He grabbed his coat and a small, hard roll of bread. He walked to his door. He opened it. Emily Cronus was standing right there, her hand raised to knock. They both froze.
"Eiden," she said, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Emily," he said, his voice flat. "Move." He tried to walk past her. "Where are you going?" "Somewhere you don't need to know," She stepped in front of him. "You can't just leave," she said. "Watch me." "I mean you can't leave me," she snapped. "We have a deal. You're my bodyguard. Where are you going?" "Out." "Out where? It's past curfew. And you have that 'I'm going to go punch a bear' look on your face. What's wrong?" "It's... personal business," he said, pushing past her.
He got to the end of the hall. He heard her footsteps running to catch up. "Eiden, wait! My father won't allow this!" "Then he can come and stop me." "He will! He'll have the guards lock you in your room!" Eiden stopped. He turned. He looked at her. "You would do that? You'd turn me in?" Emily looked frustrated. "No, you idiot! I'm trying to warn you! I'll... I'll cover for you! Just... tell me where you're going!"
Eiden looked at her. He was wasting time. "I'm going to a village. Bletchworth. It's a few hours from here. I have to... meet someone." "Bletchworth?" she said, confused. "That's in the middle of nowhere. It's all farms. Why?" "I'm not telling you." "Then I'm going with you." Eiden actually laughed. "No. You're not. You're a... someone who wouldn't last five minutes out there." "I can!" she hissed. "And I'm not letting you go alone. What if the goons from that day finds you? What if they...?"
"What if they what?" A new voice. Cold and sharp. Linda was standing at the end of the hall, in a silk bathrobe. She looked furious. "What is going on? What goons? Who's going where?"
Eiden closed his eyes. This was a disaster. "Linda, go back to bed," Emily commanded. "Not until you tell me what's going on!" Linda said, her voice rising. "You're sneaking out! With him! What if those men come back? The ones who attacked you? What if they come here and you're gone? They'll find me! They'll... they'll kidnap me!"
Eiden looked at Linda. She was genuinely terrified. He looked at Emily. She was determined. He was stuck. He looked at the ceiling. "Fine."
Both girls looked at him. "Fine... what?" Emily asked. "Fine. You can both come. But we leave right now. And you do exactly what I say. No questions. No complaining. You are my cover. We are just... three students... on a weekend trip to the country. Got it?"
Emily's eyes lit up. A real adventure. "Got it." Linda looked horrified. "Go... with you? In the dark? To the countryside?" "Or you can stay here," Eiden said, "alone. And wait for us." Linda's face went pale. "I'll get my coat."
An hour later, three figures were on a smoke-filled, rattling train. Eiden sat by the window, staring out at the dark, rolling hills. Emily sat across from him. She was, for the first time, smiling. She was looking at everything. The dirty windows. The soldiers sleeping in their seats. The moon. This was the first time she had ever left the town of St. Swithin's without her father's guards. She was free.
Linda sat next to Eiden, her arms crossed, her face a mask of pure disgust. "This is barbaric," she muttered. "It smells like wet wool and... and poor people. My coat is going to be ruined." Eiden didn't look at her. "It's a train, Linda. Not a palace." "And this village we're going to," she continued. "Does it even have... plumbing? Or electricity?"
Emily leaned forward. "Oh, hush, Linda. It's an adventure." "It's not an adventure," Eiden said, his voice low and serious. He finally looked at them. "It's my business. You are the entourage. You are here to make us look normal. So, act normal. Smile. Talk about... whatever it is you girls talk about. And stay out of my way."
Emily's smile faded a little. She saw his eyes. They were the same eyes from the alley. He wasn't her classmate. He was looking like that Devil she saw that night in the ally.
She nodded, her brief moment of adventure turning into something colder. "Right. 'Act normal'."
For the next hour, they sat in a heavy, awkward silence. The train rattled and shook, a constant rhythm against the cold glass. The smoke from the other passengers made Linda cough, a dry, delicate sound of protest.
"This is completely, utterly barbaric," Linda whispered again, for the tenth time. "My shoes are sticking to the floor. And what is that smell? It's... it's in my clothes."
"It's people, Linda," Emily said, her patience already worn thin. "It's wool, and coal, and wet coats. It's damp newspapers and stale tobacco. It's called 'the world'."
"Well, 'the world' stinks."
Eiden ignored them both. He was still like a stone. His eyes were on the reflection in the window, scanning everything. He was listening, cataloging the other people. Two soldiers, drunk and loud. A tired mother with a crying baby, trying to hush it. An old man reading a paper, his face a mask of concentration. No threats. Just... noise. Distractions. He was a wolf in a sheep pen, and it made him deeply uneasy.
A heavy, smiling woman pushed a rattling cart down the aisle. "Pies? Hot pies, lovelies? Warm your bones?"
Linda looked at the cart as if the woman was offering her a dead rat. She physically recoiled, pressing herself against the seat. Emily, however, leaned forward, her curiosity winning out over her upbringing. "Pies? On a train?"
"Best in the South, dearie," the woman said, her voice booming. "Hot steak and ale. Fresh from the oven an hour ago."
Before Emily or Linda could react, Eiden's hand shot out. "Three." He handed the woman a few coins, took the three pies wrapped in wax paper, and handed one to each of them. The woman beamed. "A fast-acting man! You keep 'em safe, love." She rattled away, calling out, "Pies! Hot pies!"
Linda held the pie between two fingers, as far from her body as possible. "I am not eating this. It's... peasant food. It's probably made of... of rats." "Then starve," Eiden said, already unwrapping his. He ate like a wolf—fast, efficient, mechanical. It was not food to be enjoyed. It was just fuel.
Emily looked at her pie. It was hot, a heavy warmth in her hands. It smelled... good. Not clean, not delicate, but rich and savory. She had never eaten food from a cart before. Her meals were served on porcelain, perfectly portioned. She looked at Eiden, who was already finishing his. She took a small, hesitant bite.
Her eyes went wide. The crust was thick, the gravy was hot and salty. It was messy, and real. It was not the perfect, flavorless food from her father's kitchen. It was the complete opposite. It was, she realized, the best thing she had ever tasted.
"This is..." she said, her voice muffled. Eiden looked at her, pausing. "Food." "It's... amazing," she said, taking a much bigger bite. The gravy dripped onto the wax paper. She didn't care. She felt a ridiculous, bubbling laugh rising in her throat. She was on a dirty train, eating a pie, and she had never felt so happy.
Linda, seeing that she was being ignored, finally huffed. "Fine. But if I get cholera, it's on your head." She took a tiny, disgusted bite. Her eyes also widened, but she quickly hid it behind a mask of indifference. "It's... adequate." She ate the rest in three bites.
The "fun" of the adventure wore off after the third hour. The train car got colder. The adrenaline of the escape was gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. Emily and Linda already had changed their seats four times, finally at the end Emily sat next to Eiden and Linda took the whole seat across from them.
Linda, for all her complaining, was the first to fall asleep. Her head fell back against the seat, and a very un-ladylike snore escaped her lips. Emily stifled a giggle. Eiden just raised an eyebrow.
Emily tried to stay awake. She was the "adventurer." She was "free." She was not some delicate girl who needed her rest. She watched the dark, moonlit fields rush by. She had never felt so small, or so alive. But the rattling of the train, the warmth of the pie, and the stress of the day... Her eyelids got heavy. Her head nodded. Once. Twice. She fought it. She looked at Eiden. He was still staring out the window, a stone statue, his reflection staring back at him. Her head nodded again, this time to the side. It landed, with a soft, boneless thump, on Eiden's shoulder.
Eiden froze. His entire body went rigid. Every muscle, every fiber, tensed for a fight. This was... contact. This was... a threat? His training screamed at him. No one got this close. No one touched him. It was a weakness. A vulnerability. His mind flashed through three different ways to break her neck before she could move. He slowly, mechanically, turned his head. She was just... asleep. Her face, no longer the cold "Princess" or the sharp-tongued academic rival, looked young. She looked... like a girl. He looked at her. He looked out the window. He looked at Linda, who was now full-on snoring, her mouth open. He was trapped. By two sleeping, helpless, useless princesses. He let out the slowest, most frustrated breath he had ever taken. And he did not move. He sat there, a prisoner of war, as the train rattled on. He stared into the darkness, his arm numb, his mind on high alert, and a princess asleep on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her head through his coat. It was a distraction. It was... annoying.
The darkness slowly, slowly turned to a cold, gray light. Dawn. The gray light hit Emily's face. Eiden watched as the first real light of the sun touched her hair. She looked peaceful. He hated it. It made him feel... complicated. And "complicated" was dangerous.
The train whistle screamed. A loud, screeching of metal on metal. They were here. Eiden's reaction was instant. He didn't gently shake her. He shoved her shoulder. "We're here. Wake up."
Emily jolted awake, confused and startled. "Wha—? I wasn't—" She realized where she was. She realized her head had been on his shoulder. Her face went bright red. "I... I was just..." "You were drooling," Eiden said, his voice flat. He was already standing, his coat on, his entire body language was screaming. He kicked Linda's foot. Hard. "Ow! What—! You pig! You can't just—" "We're here," Eiden said, his voice cutting through her complaint. "Bletchworth. Grab your bags. And try to act normal."
Emily, flustered and embarrassed, straightened her clothes. Coming down to the station, the fog around them was dense like nothing Emily had ever seen. Linda on the other still in a sleepy mood, "Can we find some place to sleep first?"
Emily and Eiden took a look at the confused and tired Linda, who is about fall asleep on the station floor.