The Prince and His Loyal Hound

When the ruckus finally died down and Caelan had finally fallen asleep, the room fell into silence.

August stood quietly just beyond the doorway for a long time. Then, slowly — almost cautiously — he stepped inside and moved to the side of her bed.

He sat down.

The sight of her bandages made him grimace.

She was always bleeding.

Always throwing herself into the fire before anyone else had to.

"You know," a raspy voice mumbled from the pillow, "you don't have to sit here."

August jolted slightly in surprise.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, blinking.

Caelan turned her face toward him, a slow grin tugging at her lips.

"The royal hound never mistakes his owner's scent."

Then she added, quieter, "That, and you're the only person who smells like lavender, doesn't yell my name a hundred times while crying, or make snarky jokes the second they walk in."

August let out a soft laugh and looked at her, some of the tightness finally easing from his face.

"Glad you're back, Commander."

"Glad to be back," Caelan replied with a small smile.

There was a beat of quiet between them. The kind of silence that wasn't heavy — just full of unsaid thoughts.

Then she asked, "So… how did you know Mary was in the woods? No one saw her go there."

August's smile faded slowly.

Caelan continued, "She said she was playing hide and seek with a little boy, but… no one in the estate fits the description."

August's fingers froze mid-movement. "What did he look like?" he asked — too fast, too sharp.

Caelan blinked. "Short black hair… black shorts, white button-up shirt. She doesn't remember his face, but she said he smiled a lot."

Silence.

August's breath hitched.

His knuckles whitened around the arm of the chair. His body was still, but too still — like a man holding back the urge to run or scream or collapse.

For a long moment, he said nothing. No questions. No reaction. Just a quiet, suffocating tension that filled the space between them like smoke.

Caelan's voice softened. "August?"

Still, he didn't answer. Just stared ahead — not at her, but through her. Like he was seeing something else entirely.

And when he finally did move, it was only to close his eyes and breathe, slowly — deliberately.

As if he needed to remind himself that this was real.

That she was alive.

Caelan tilted her head slightly, watching him.

"August… do you know something?"

There was a pause.

"Did you see the boy?"

August's eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

"…No," he said quietly. "I didn't."

Caelan frowned, unconvinced.

"I just had a bad feeling," he added after a moment. "Like something was off. When I realized Mary was missing, I asked around… but none of the servants had seen her."

He leaned back in the chair slightly, arms crossed — more for stability than comfort.

"I figured maybe she followed Alaric out of curiosity."

"Well, whoever that boy was, he's in for trouble," Caelan sighed. "Alaric swore he'd kill the boy if he ever sees him near Mary again."

August didn't answer. His fingers tightened slightly around the armrest.

Caelan let the silence hang for a moment before breaking it with a weak chuckle.

"You should've seen his face when he thought I died. He looked like a kicked puppy about to throw hands with the world."

August still didn't speak.

She turned her head slightly to glance at him. "...You alright?"

"I should be asking you that," he said, voice low.

She smiled faintly. "I've had worse."

"That's not a good thing, Cael."

The nickname slipped from him before he could stop it.

She raised a brow but didn't comment on it. Instead, she closed her eyes, the edges of her mouth twitching upward.

"You're just mad I got stabbed before you could give me another lecture."

"I'm not mad," August replied quietly.

Caelan opened one eye and looked at him.

"…Then what are you?"

He didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened, and the hand gripping the chair shifted slightly — as though whatever he wanted to say had to stay buried deep.

"…Tired," he finally said. "And grateful."

Caelan blinked, surprised by the honesty. "Grateful?"

He nodded once. "That you found her. That you made it back."

Caelan turned her gaze toward the ceiling. "You say that like I planned to die out there."

"I know you didn't." He stood slowly, smoothing down his jacket. "But next time… try not to make it look so convincing."

She smiled again, but it was softer this time. Sleepier. "No promises."

As he stepped away from the bed, she called out, barely above a whisper, "August."

He stopped, glancing back at her.

"…Thanks for coming."

He didn't reply — just gave a small nod, then stepped out, leaving the door to click shut behind him.

Outside, the hallway was still.

But in his mind — the laughter still echoed.

That damn child's voice.

"You killed her~"

◇◇◇◇

A few days later

The Thorne estate had settled into its usual rhythm, though the memory of the monster attack lingered like smoke clinging to stone walls — invisible, but impossible to forget.

Caelan, though still sore, was finally strong enough to walk unassisted. Bandaged beneath her uniform and moving with a slight limp, she entered the estate's map room — a broad chamber lit by tall windows and lined with aging tomes, charts, and northern campaign records.

The knights were already gathered.

Alaric stood at the head of the table, posture composed and commanding. The rest formed a loose circle around him, the air stiff with focus. No one spoke out of turn — not just because this was a military debrief, but because Alaric was the duke's son. There were lines even camaraderie didn't cross.

Caelan stepped forward and cleared her throat.

"Let's review what we've learned."

The room settled immediately. Eyes turned to her, quiet but alert.

Ryeon was the first to respond, voice level. "They feed on fear. We saw it clearest when Arin cried out — the monster doubled in size within seconds."

Arin shifted awkwardly, but said nothing.

Tae followed. "It wasn't the sound. It was the emotional spike. We ran tests — sharp noises didn't trigger them. Panic did."

Eren nodded, arms crossed. "They moved faster when we lost cohesion. If one recruit faltered, they surged toward them."

"So," Caelan said, "it's not just fear. It's instability."

August, standing near the back — not as commander, but as witness — finally spoke. His tone was quiet but firm.

"What about the clearing? The moment we stepped into it, they stopped."

"They refused to follow," Caelan confirmed. She stepped closer to the table, her finger tracing the perimeter on the sketched-out map.

"Why?" August asked. "What marked that boundary?"

Alaric narrowed his eyes at the drawing. "Any signs of traps? Buried iron? Old symbols?"

"No," Caelan replied. "Just the land. It looked… natural. Uneven stones, roots twisted like knots. But no carvings. No metal. No markers."

Tae tilted his head. "Could be the terrain itself. Maybe the earth was dense enough they couldn't rise from it."

"Or maybe they sensed something we didn't," Ryeon added. "Animals avoid territory claimed by stronger predators. Maybe it's like that."

Caelan paused, considering. "If so… then something stronger is out there."

A silence passed.

August's gaze dropped slightly, brows drawn. He didn't speak further — but the memory of the boy in white echoed in his mind.

The boy who smiled.