Chapter 193: Reminded Of The Hero
Leroy pressed to the glass, heart thudding. On the street below, a man stumbled free from the wreck, half-collapsing onto the cobbles before lurching toward the nearest alley. His clothes hung in tatters, hair matted, movements wild with disorientation.
Two more men clambered from the broken carriage. Their blades flashed in the light, drawn without hesitation as they charged after the fleeing figure.
Elias was already moving, slipping through the doorway with soldier’s precision. Leroy snatched up his parchment and followed, stepping into the swirl of chaos outside. That was when his gaze sharpened, and recognition struck.
Hadrian Arvand.
Before he could take another breath, another shout split the air from among the people who had gathered to see if there was anyone else who needed to be rescued.
"There’s a woman inside!" someone cried from the carriage wreck.
"And another man!"
The calls twisted, sharper, darker, until one voice roared above the rest: "He’s assaulting her!"
The crowd recoiled, a ripple of horror coursing through them. Some shouted at the man but the man didn’t seem to care for them. He waved a dagger at the ones peering into the wreckage. The crowd scattered and the commotion intensified.
From the broken carriage, through the splintered frame, Leroy glimpsed a man hunched over a motionless woman, fumbling at her clothes.
His stomach clenched. Elyse. It had to be.
Leroy exhaled slowly, steadying himself. His eyes cut to Elias, already poised to strike.
"Get him," Leroy ordered, voice low and sharp.
But questions clawed at him even as the words left his mouth. Who were the men pursuing Hadrian? How had he escaped? Was this all by Lorraine’s hand, another piece in her intricate game, or had her design been unraveled by something unforeseen?
He leaned toward the former. But that meant... a darker thought came to his mind: Was Lorraine truly ruthless enough to orchestrate her sister’s humiliation just to bring Hadrian to ruin?
He pushed the thought aside. Elyse first. He had to save her. No woman deserved that. Not even Elyse. Torture was fine. This... was a fate worse than death.
Leroy shoved his way through the crowd, boots striking hard against the cobbles as he reached the wreckage. Inside the splintered frame of the carriage, the scene froze his blood.
Elyse stirred faintly, consciousness flickering in her eyes as she struggled weakly against the man pinning her down. For a moment, hope surged; she was alive. But before she could push him off, a gleam of steel caught the light. The man pressed a knife to her throat, silencing her thrashing with the razor’s threat.
"Stay back!" he barked, sweat dripping down his brow, eyes darting with feral desperation.
Leroy raised his hands slowly, every muscle in his body taut. His sword itched to be drawn, but one wrong move would slit Elyse’s throat. His heart pounded, vision narrowing until there was only the trembling blade against her pale skin, and her frightened, defiant eyes locked on his.
Across the street, Elias had intercepted the two men hunting Hadrian. Steel rang against steel, the clash drawing gasps from onlookers. Elias moved like a shadow, precise and ruthless, but the attackers fought with a savage, single-minded fury. They weren;t trained at all and yet, they pressed him hard, their blades driving him back step by step, bloodlust twisting their faces.
Hadrian, staggering against the wall of the alley, could do nothing. His lips were cracked, his skin pale. He swayed as though the very air weighed him down, hunger and thirst gnawing the strength from his body. Even with Elias battling for his life, Hadrian could not seize the chance to run. His knees buckled, and he slid down the stone, gasping like a man dying of thirst.
Back at the wreckage, Leroy took a step closer. The knife pressed harder into Elyse’s throat, a bead of red welling and slipping down her pale skin. His pulse thundered, but his eyes were steady, fixed on the man like a predator measuring the kill.
"I will ruin Hadrian and his daughter! He killed my wife. This woman..." he pressed his knife on Elyse’s throat. "She humiliated my wife, killing her, just because everyone called her beautiful. This is only fair!"
"Release her," Leroy said, his voice like steel drawn in the dark. It wasn’t a plea, nor a bargain. It was an unyielding and absolute order.
The man faltered. His grip on Elyse’s hair tightened, knuckles whitening as if her neck were the only thing tethering him to life. Panic flickered in his eyes registering the one commanding him. His chest heaved. He wanted to run, but he knew the prince would not allow it.
Elyse twisted suddenly, clawing at his wrist. The blade wavered for a breath. That was all Leroy needed.
Steel flashed.
The crowd gasped as Leroy’s sword carved through the air in one clean, merciless arc. The sound was wet, sickening, final.
The man stiffened, mouth falling open in a strangled gasp. The knife tumbled from his hand, clattering harmlessly to the stones. Then he collapsed forward, his weight crushing Elyse as his life poured out in hot, dark rivers. Blood soaked her gown, streaking down her arms, splattering across her face.
The onlookers recoiled, some crying out, others pressing hands to their mouths in horror. Children buried their faces in skirts.
Pinned beneath the dying man, Elyse let out a choked cry, struggling weakly before the warmth of his blood and the suffocating press of his body overwhelmed her. Her eyes fluttered, rolling back, and she went limp.
Leroy shoved the corpse aside, the body hitting the stones with a sickening thud. Elyse lay sprawled, bloodied and limp, her dress drenched in crimson not her own. For a moment, the only sound was the drip of blood onto the cobbles.
He rose, sword still slick in his hand, his breath steadying as the fury drained from him. His strike had been clean, necessary. Nothing more.
Around him, the crowd shifted back, silence rippling outward like a wave. Some watched in awe, others in horror, none daring to speak. Children clung to mothers’ skirts, men pressed their fists to their mouths.
The wreckage smoked in the street, the air thick with fear. To them, he was not savior nor butcher. He was only the man who ended it in a single, ruthless breath. And they remembered. He was the same figure who had leapt into the arena disaster during the tribute, dragging survivors out while others froze, even as arrows whooshed past him.
Now, that golden mask gleamed once more as he straightened to his full height, blade dripping. His gaze cut past the trembling crowd to where Elias struggled against the two men, steel clashing in frantic sparks.
The onlookers parted instinctively, as though the street itself made way for him. Step by step, Leroy advanced, a silent force, carrying the weight of inevitability with him.