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Understanding dawned on the captain’s face.

“Ah. That explains your return.” He gestured around at the peaceful village. “As you can see, there’s been no attack. Lord Trevain and his men departed two days ago—called back by Lasseran himself.”

“Called back?” he repeated suspiciously.

“Direct orders. They packed up and left within the hour.” The captain shrugged. “I don’t know anything about Beast warriors or a training camp. Whatever you found, it wasn’t connected to our garrison.”

He studied the man’s face for deception but found none. His years in the fighting pits had taught him to read men—to anticipate their strikes before they landed—but the captain’s weathered features revealed nothing but exhaustion.

“If what you say is true, then where did they go?” he pressed. “And why abandon the camp so suddenly?”

The captain spread his hands. “I’m just a soldier following orders, same as most. Lord Trevain might have confided in me once, but not after Lasseran’s men arrived.”

Remembering the calculated brutality of Lasseran’s men, he didn’t find that surprising.

“So, you’re back in our village,” the captain added, breaking the silence. “Are you planning to stay this time?”

He hesitated, feeling Lyric’s gaze on his back. He hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead. Every moment since discovering the abandoned camp had been consumed by urgency and dread.

“I don’t know yet,” he answered honestly.

The captain nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Fair enough.” He mounted his horse with the stiff movements of a man who’d spent too many years in armor. “Just keep the peace. That’s all I ask.”

He watched him ride away, uncertainty gnawing at his gut. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t place what.

“Do you believe him?” Lyric asked, moving to stand beside him.

Before he could answer, a familiar voice called out.

“Lyric! Egon!”

Samha raced toward them, his thin legs pumping as fast as they could carry him. The boy’s face lit up with pure joy, a stark contrast to the suspicion that had been weighing on him.

“You came back!”

Samha crashed into him, wrapping his arms around his waist in an unexpected hug. He froze, unused to such casual affection, especially from a child, then awkwardly patted the boy’s shoulder.

“We did,” Lyric said, ruffling Samha’s hair. “How have things been here?”

“Good!” Samha pulled back, bouncing on his toes. “The captain kept his promise. No one’s bothered us since you left.”

He exchanged a glance with Lyric. “The lord’s men have all gone?”

Samha nodded vigorously. “They packed up real quick. The innkeeper said it was strange, them leaving so sudden-like.”

“And the village has been peaceful?”

“Yep! Everything’s been normal.” Samha looked around, then leaned closer, lowering his voice to what he clearly thought was a whisper but was barely quieter than his normal speech. “But I think something happened at the lord’s estate.”

He crouched down to the boy’s level. “What do you mean?”

“My cousin works in the kitchens there,” Samha confided. “She said there was a big commotion the night before they left. Lots of shouting. And the next morning, the lord was acting real strange. Wouldn’t look nobody in the eye.”

Egon frowned, watching Samha run off to join his friends. The pieces weren’t fitting together—abandoned training camps, a sudden retreat, and now rumors of disturbances at the lord’s estate. His instincts hummed with warning.

“I need to see the estate for myself,” he said quietly, turning to Lyric.

Her face fell. “We just got back.”