The Prince and His Loyal Hound

As the council meeting came to a close and the nobles finally departed the palace for their respective estates, Crown Prince August dismissed Caelan with a quiet wave of his hand.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

Caelan understood immediately.

She bowed in silence and left, her boots echoing lightly against the marble floors as she made her way out. There was much to be done — and not much time to do it.

Her destination was clear: the training grounds.

The sky was overcast, wind curling softly through the stone corridors and open courtyards. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and steel. Recruits were already sparring in pairs, some sprinting laps, others collapsing onto benches with bruises and grins.

Then he appeared — a blur of limbs and golden hair.

Arin Westfall.

The youngest recruit from House Westfall, just sixteen years old, and already far too attached to her for his own good.

He sprinted toward her, eyes bright like a pup eager to please.

"Commander!" he called cheerfully, skidding to a halt in front of her, hand rising in a sharp salute.

Caelan sighed through her nose, expression unreadable.

"Ten laps. No talking. Go."

He blinked once, then grinned as if she'd handed him a gift. He took off running without another word, arms pumping, feet thudding against the packed earth.

From the side, Galen — the field medic — approached, rubbing his temple like a man too tired for this much enthusiasm.

"Commander, aren't you being a bit harsh?" he asked. "I know it's my job to heal these kids, but he passed out last week. Smiling."

Caelan didn't break her gaze from the field.

"If you've got complaints, join him. I'm not in the mood to play games today."

Galen huffed, but didn't argue.

"We have a new mission," Caelan added after a beat. "And I can only take a few people."

She turned, her sharp eyes scanning the recruits, already calculating.

The North. Spring. Monsters.

She needed more than just strength. She needed trust.

"Galen, I'll need you to shortlist the most stable recruits. I don't want brutes; I want discipline. Loyalty."

He nodded. "How many?"

"Six. Not a man more."

◇◇◇◇

Galen didn't take long. In less than an hour, he returned with a list: seven names — six men and one woman, his sharp-minded medical assistant.

Caelan was mid-spar with Eren — one of the sharper young recruits — keeping her movements deliberately light, not pushing him too hard. But the moment she spotted Galen approaching from the corner of her eye, she ended the spar with a swift step back, lowering her stance.

She accepted the scroll with a curt nod, quickly scanning its contents. With a sidelong glance at Galen and a faint sigh, she tucked it into her belt.

Of course he'd taken her words — "Six. Not a man more." — a little too literally.

And added a seventh name.

A woman.

Galen looked off to the side, feigning complete innocence — as if he hadn't just used a loophole to sneak his wife onto the list.

Caelan simply sighed and stepped forward, scroll in hand, as she walked to the center of the field.

"Those whose names are called are to appear tomorrow at dawn in the upper field."

Caelan's voice rang clear across the training grounds, sharp as steel.

"No complaints. No delays. Anyone late will face punishment."

Sparring halted. Chatter died. The recruits snapped to attention.

Her eyes scanned the field once more, and then she spoke:

"Ryeon. Eren. Tae. Galen. Darin. Sori—"

She paused, expression tightening.

"...and Arin."

The name came out like a burden, dragged out on a sigh of deep, reluctant regret.

They all nodded in acknowledgment — disciplined, silent, ready.

All except for Arin, who bolted forward at full speed, practically glowing with excitement.

His golden hair bounced with each step, that wide, ridiculous grin plastered across his face as if he'd just been knighted on the spot.

A small scoff slipped from Caelan's lips — almost a laugh, though she'd never admit it.

"Galen," she said dryly, already turning away, "tell that brat to rest well today. He'll be working twice as hard starting tomorrow."

And with that, she walked off — strides steady, posture straight, the weight of command settled firmly on her shoulders.

◇◇◇◇

Caelan returned to the prince's chambers, stopping just short of the door. She raised a hand and knocked twice — firm, measured.

A beat passed.

"Enter."

His voice came from within — composed, yet weary.

She stepped inside. August was at his desk, hunched slightly over a stack of documents. At her presence, he leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh and looked up.

"You've chosen the ones joining us in the North?" he asked.

Caelan gave a short nod.

"Yes, Your Highness. I've come to report the list."

"Go on."

"Ryeon — noble-born, doesn't talk much, but good with the spear. Reliable."

"Eren — young, but sharp-witted. Excellent at finding exits in tight situations."

"Tae — a skilled cook, and just as sharp with daggers as he is with kitchen knives."

"Galen and Sori — our medical support. They work best as a pair."

"Darin — brute force, soft heart. He's good at smashing through problems — literally."

She paused.

"And then... there's Arin."

A sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"He's loyal. Loud. But loyal."

August gave her a look — somewhere between amused and resigned.

"That seems like a good list," August said calmly, picking up another document and sighing.

"Though the last person does worry me."

Caelan let out a soft sigh.

"As odd as he seems, he's a good kid who follows the rules."

"Kid?" August gave a slightly amused look.

"He's barely three years younger than you."

"He has the energy and personality of a three-year-old," Caelan retorted with a smirk.

She glanced at August and asked,

"Need help?"

She noticed he was rereading the same document for the third time.

He didn't answer. That silence was enough.

Caelan settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk, picked up a stack of papers, and began helping him.

This wasn't unusual between them. After all, Caelan made sure she was always by his side — in his shadow — even as he learned to manage the kingdom's affairs.

______

Despite protests from many of August's tutors, Caelan remained present by royal decree, granted by the queen herself.

That's how she came to know everything August ever learned.

◇◇◇◇

And so, preparations began.

August poured over documents in his chambers, the weight of the coming season heavy on his shoulders.

Caelan trained the recruits tirelessly, pushing them to their limits and beyond.

Meanwhile, Alaric was somewhere in the northern territories, readying two guest rooms — fully aware that only one would ever be used.

As spring approached, so did the darkness that lingered quietly in the corners of August's mind.

This time, however, with an escape in sight, it felt… lighter.

Or so he thought.