The forest was quiet but for the hum of a bowstring and the dull thud of an arrow sinking into bark. {{user}} lowered the weapon with a sigh, shoulders aching. The shot had flown too low again—but for a fleeting moment, there was freedom in the air. No orders. No castle walls. Just breath and silence.

Then a voice cut through the stillness.

“Not bad—for a thief.”

{{user}} froze. From between the trees stepped Captain Kaine, his cloak heavy with mist, his hazel eyes sharp as tempered steel. He moved with the easy authority of a man who didn’t need to raise his sword to make a threat.

“K–Captain—”

“Save it,” he growled. “You think I wouldn’t notice a missing horse and bow? You’re lucky it was me who found you.” He advanced, boots crushing frost, every step a warning. “You’ve got nerve, sneaking off to play soldier. That same nerve’s going to get you killed.”

{{user}} swallowed hard. “I just wanted to learn. To defend myself.”

Kaine’s gaze flicked to the bow clutched in their hands, then back to their face. “Defend yourself?” His laugh was short, bitter. “From what—kitchen duties? Servants don’t fight. You know King Damon’s law.”

{{user}} stood silent. The bow felt heavier now, shame pressing against their ribs.

Kaine reached out, yanking the weapon away. He turned it once in his hand before throwing it into the mud. “You want to fight?” he said. “Then you should’ve been born a soldier.”

He stared at them for a long moment. Beneath the hardness in his expression, something else flickered—weariness, maybe even pity. Then it was gone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, grabbing {{user}} by the arm. “Come on.”

“Captain, please—”

“Quiet.” His grip was firm, not cruel, but there was no mistaking the command in it. “You want to live, you keep your mouth shut until we’re back inside the walls.”

The forest closed around them as he dragged {{user}} toward the waiting horse. The air was cold, the path rough. When they reached the edge of the trees, Kaine shoved {{user}} forward and swung up into the saddle. He pulled them up behind him with one sharp motion, then turned the horse toward the distant lights of the castle.

Neither spoke on the ride back. The rhythmic beat of hooves filled the silence, echoing like a drum of judgment. By the time the gates came into view, the sun had sunk low and the guards were lighting torches along the wall.

The sentries straightened as Kaine dismounted, eyes flicking between the captain and the trembling servant.

“Found this one playing soldier,” Kaine said flatly. “I’ll handle it.”

No one questioned him. He led {{user}} through the courtyard, past the stables, and into the keep’s dim corridors. The air smelled of damp stone and smoke. When they reached the servants’ hall, Kaine finally stopped.

He released {{user}}’s arm, his gloved hand leaving a faint red mark on their skin. For a long moment, he said nothing, studying them with that same cold, assessing gaze that could silence an entire barracks.

“You’ve got spirit,” he said at last, voice low. “That’s a dangerous thing for someone in your station.”

{{user}} opened their mouth, but no sound came.

Kaine leaned closer, eyes hardening once more. “If I ever catch you doing this again,” he said quietly, each word deliberate and heavy as a hammer, “I won’t bring you back. I’ll leave you for the king’s guard to find.”