Find them

Clop, clop.

Maxilin walked slowly into the town, his horse's hooves echoing on the cobblestone streets. The townspeople paused in their activities, turning to give him odd, curious looks. It was a familiar reaction — every time he embarked on a new mission, people were taken aback by his appearance and his unusual attire. The questions that followed were inevitable.

Maxilin made his way toward a well in the center of the town. As he approached, an older man came forward, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Who are you, boy?" the man asked, his voice gruff.

Without removing the cloth that concealed most of his face, Maxilin responded calmly, "I've only come to see the town's leader. Could you please tell me where I may reach him?"

Maxilin had been reminded often enough that his demeanor could be seen as disrespectful, so he made a conscious effort to speak politely. The old man nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping over Maxilin from head to toe, assessing him. It was clear that the old man was reluctant to offer help, his suspicion evident in his expression.

The man glanced toward the west, noting the fading light of the day as dusk approached. Maxilin didn't want to waste any more time, so he was about to leave when the old man finally spoke again.

"You have to go straight and turn left, boy. Then you'll see a two-story home. It's his home," the man instructed, his tone begrudging but clear.

"Thank you," Maxilin murmured as he began to ride away, but the old man called out to him again.

"Are you related to him? Or do you have business here? What's the matter with you?" the man asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

Maxilin glanced back and replied, "I'm just his friend's son."

Without waiting for more questions, Maxilin urged his horse forward, following the directions he'd been given. He stayed on the path, taking the left turn as instructed, and soon arrived at the two-story house. He paused before entering, noticing how quiet the town had become. People were retreating to their homes, locking doors behind them, as if anticipating something ominous.

Maxilin approached the house and knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the silence. He waited for a moment, then knocked again. After a while, the door creaked open, revealing a small girl. She looked up at him with wide eyes, clearly startled by his presence.

"Yes?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Does this belong to Mr. Alex's house?" Maxilin inquired, his tone gentle despite his imposing appearance. The girl hesitated for a moment, then gave a slow nod.

"Could you kindly inform him that his friend has sent a man to meet him?" Maxilin asked.

The girl seemed to take a moment to process his words, her eyes darting to the side as if considering whether to trust him. Without a word, she suddenly closed the door in front of his face.

Maxilin stood there for a moment, taken aback by the abruptness of her reaction. 

Maxilin drew his brows together, staring at the closed door in disbelief.

"This is really absurd," he thought. "Doesn't that child know how to interact with seniors?"

The sun was sinking in the west, casting long shadows across the town. Maxilin could hear the distant sound of crashing waves, suggesting that the beach was nearby. As he took in his surroundings, the door suddenly creaked open behind him.

"Who is this?" a middle-aged man asked as he appeared in the doorway, his expression one of surprise.

"Lord Wyiner sent me here," Maxilin replied calmly.

The man raised an eyebrow. "But he didn't send me a letter saying he was sending someone."

"Actually, my uncle was a little busy," Maxilin explained smoothly. "He didn't have time to write a letter because of that."

The man's eyes widened in recognition.

"You? You're Wyiner's nephew, aren't you?"

His demeanor changed instantly upon hearing that Maxilin was related to Lord Wyiner. A warm smile spread across his face, and he seemed genuinely pleased. From behind him, the small girl who had answered the door earlier peeked out, her curiosity evident as she eyed Maxilin.

"Yes," Maxilin confirmed, offering a polite nod.

"Come in, please. You should have said that earlier," Alex repeated, ushering Maxilin inside with a welcoming gesture.

Maxilin attempted to smile in response, but the expression faltered on his face. Smiling always felt unnatural to him, an effort that never seemed to come easily, no matter the situation.

As Maxilin stepped into the warmth of the home, his thoughts lingered on his mission, the unease still lingering beneath the surface despite Alex's hospitality.

**

Meanwhile, in Wyiner's Quarters

Wyiner entered his room, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. He removed his coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair before sitting on the edge of his bed. For a moment, he began to reach for something on the bedside table, but his attention quickly shifted to his desk across the room.

A sense of urgency gripped him as he stood up and strode over to the desk. His hands moved with precision, opening a large, leather-bound book that rested there. Tucked within the pages was a letter, its edges worn from frequent handling.

Wyiner's expression darkened as he stared at the letter. His thoughts raced, piecing together the fragments of a troubling realization. Without wasting another moment, he folded the letter.

Determination etched on his face, Wyiner stormed out of his room, his mind racing. 

As Wyiner emerged from the fort, his voice rang out, sharp and urgent. "Evan!"

Evan, who had been casually leaning against a nearby wall, looked up nonchalantly as if nothing was amiss. "Yes, uncle?" he replied, his tone indifferent.

Wyiner stormed up to him, his face flushed with anger. "What is this, Evan?" he demanded, holding up the letter he had found.

Evan's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the letter. "I don't understand, uncle," he murmured, feigning ignorance.

Wyiner's frustration boiled over. He gritted his teeth and seized Evan's arm, his grip tightening with each passing second. "Don't play games with me," Wyiner hissed. "You went through my things, didn't you?"

Evan's expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of tension passed through his eyes. Around them, knights and servants paused in their tasks, watching the confrontation with bated breath.