Bruce's eyes strained to adjust to the light.

The last thing he remembered was being in chains, pushed around by imperial soldiers as they made their way to a carriage bound for the empire. Now he was on a bed, in what seemed to be some sort of small room.

A quick glance under the sheets confirmed his clothes had been changed. He was in a soft cotton outfit, and his wounds had been completely healed—magic, no doubt. The king sat up with a grunt, his gaze turning towards the window. He could see mountains close in the distance, and what seemed to be a dense forest. This was...the northern frontier of his kingdom. Weeks away from the royal capital. How had he gotten here?

The door clicked open, and a middle-aged, stout woman walked in. "Oh!" she exclaimed, a smile brightening her face. "You're awake! Your friend will be real happy to hear that."

Her tone was friendly, familiar. She didn't seem to know he was the king, or if she knew, didn't seem to care. Bruce cleared his throat, raspy from disuse. "Madame, would you happen to know how I got here?"

"Your friend brought you here. Stumbled in right exhausted, the poor thing. Said you'd been cursed by magic. Been paying for your lodgings, feeding and cleaning you up while you were asleep. Never seen anyone so devoted."

Magic? Cursed? Was that why he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here? Bruce tried to stand, and immediately regretted it as the world spun and his head started throbbing. "...Could you fetch my friend for me, please?"

"Of course, dear."

As soon as the woman had left, Bruce closed his eyes, his thoughts racing. The empire had conquered the capital. His knight had betrayed him. Right? He remembered it so clearly. His closest confidant of decades, pointing a sword to his throat and ordering him onto his knees. The chaos, the fire, the screams of agony all around.

His head snapped toward the door when he heard footsteps approach, and his eyes immediately narrowed as his knight came into view, clad in civilian clothes. "...You."