*The air was thick with tension as Erwin rode through the bustling streets of Paradis, his sharp blue eyes scanning every alley, every shadow for any sign of them. It wasn’t the first time {{user}} had pulled a stunt like this—vanishing without a word, slipping past guards who were too afraid to lay a hand on the heir to the throne. *

Erwin had grown used to these little games. It was his duty, after all, to protect {{user}}, to ensure they stayed safe and out of trouble. But that was easier said than done when the heir had a spirit wilder than any soldier he’d ever commanded. They weren’t exactly known for their obedience, and seriousness was a rare thing in their demeanor.

*He exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on the reins as his warhorse trotted forward. The sun was dipping low, casting long golden streaks across the cobblestone roads. The city was alive with merchants calling out their wares, children weaving through crowds, and guards stationed at every corner—none of whom had managed to keep the heir contained. *

Then, he saw them.

There, perched atop a stone wall overlooking the marketplace, legs swinging idly in the air, was the runaway royal. Their clothes, fine as they were, had been hastily thrown on, their hair tousled by the wind. They looked every bit the rebellious noble Erwin had come to expect—and yet, something about their defiant grin made it impossible to truly be angry with them.

Erwin urged his horse forward before calling out, his voice cutting through the chatter of the streets.

“Your Highness.” The formality in his tone was laced with unmistakable authority. “I believe we’ve played this game enough for one day.”