Chapter Twenty_seven.

The weeks drag on, and with each passing day, Arthur’s frustration grows.

Madin has disappeared as though swallowed by the earth, leaving behind only the faintest traces—an innkeeper’s vague memory, a merchant’s passing mention of a cloaked figure matching his description.

Yet no sighting brings Arthur closer to him.

He stands at the edge of a vast forest, his breath misting in the cold morning air. His horse paws the ground restlessly, sensing his master’s unease.

The trail has gone cold again, leaving Arthur with only his doubts and Jeremy’s words echoing in his mind.

"You punish him for wanting it."

Arthur clenches his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the pressure. He doesn’t want to think about Jeremy, or the accusations in his tone, but the truth is inescapable.

This search isn’t just about finding Madin—it’s about confronting his own failures.

“Your Majesty,” one of his knights approaches, his voice hesitant. “We’ve checked the nearby villages and taverns. There’s no sign of him here. Perhaps he’s crossed the border. Even Michael says he hasn’t seen him.”

Arthur turns, his expression hard. “He wouldn’t leave without knowing for certain I’d stop looking. He’s still within these lands. Spread out and search again.”

The knight bows and retreats, but doubt flickers in his eyes.

Arthur ignores it. He won’t let them question him—not when he himself is already questioning so much.

As the knights disperse, he dismounts and approaches the edge of the forest. The trees loom tall and foreboding, their twisted branches blocking out the sun. A faint trail leads into the depths, overgrown and untraveled.

"He could be anywhere," Arthur thinks grimly. "Or nowhere at all."

○●○

The Court Waits

While Arthur scours the kingdom for Madin, the palace is unraveling in his absence.

The royal court hums with quiet unease, the air thick with whispered conversations and shifting alliances.

Arthur’s siblings—ambitious and opportunistic—take note of the growing instability.

Princess Eleanor, the eldest, meets with her advisors in her private chambers. The soft glow of candlelight illuminates her sharp features as she paces the room, her gown rustling with each step.

“Our brother is chasing ghosts,” she says, her voice crisp and controlled. “The kingdom falters while he abandons his responsibilities. His obsession with this... Madin has made him weak.”

One of her advisors, a stooped man with a silver beard, inclines his head. “The nobles grow restless, Your Highness. They question the king’s fitness to rule.”

Eleanor stops pacing and turns to face him. “Good. Let them question him. When the time comes, they’ll find a more suitable ruler in me.”

Across the palace, Prince Jona lounges in his chambers, a goblet of wine in hand. Where Eleanor is calculating, Jona is impulsive, but his ambitions are no less dangerous. He reclines on a cushioned chair, surrounded by a circle of his closest allies.

“Eleanor thinks she’s already queen,” Jona scoffs, his grin lazy but his eyes sharp. “But she forgets one thing—I have the people. When the time comes, they’ll back me, not her.”

A young noble seated nearby raises an eyebrow. “And how will you convince the former king? Eleanor’s been gathering allies for weeks.”

Jona smirks. “Let her have her nobles. The people care about action, not politics. When Arthur’s incompetence becomes undeniable, they’ll see me as the better choice.”

--

Only Loretta is worried about Arthur without trying to replace him.

Arthur’s parents, former King and Queen , watch their son’s descent into obsession with growing concern.

“He’s not the boy we raised,” grand queen says one evening, her voice heavy with sorrow. “Arthur was always so steadfast, so sure of himself. Now he’s lost.”

Elias , former king , his face lined with age and worry, nods slowly. “He’s lost because he blames himself. Whatever happened with Madin, it’s shaken him to his core. But his duty is to the kingdom, not this... search.”

“He needs guidance,” grand queen says. “Someone to remind him of who he is.”

“Haven't we been there before? Unless he finds him , he will not rest,” Elias replies grimly. “If he doesn’t return soon, there may not be a kingdom left for him to rule.”

○●○

The sun has long since set when Arthur finally rides through the palace gates. His clothes are dusty, his expression grim.

He has spent weeks following false leads, each dead end a bitter reminder of his failure.

The great hall is nearly empty, the echoes of his footsteps filling the vast space.

His prolonged absence has left its mark—servants glance at him nervously, and the once-bustling court feels eerily subdued.

Arthur climbs the steps to his chambers, his body aching with exhaustion.

He hesitates at the door to Madin’s room, his hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, he considers walking away, but the pull is too strong.

He opens the door and steps inside. The room is as he left it—quiet, cold, and filled with ghosts.

Arthur stands in the doorway, his chest tight as memories crash over him.

Tomorrow, he will face the court. Tomorrow, he will confront the chaos his absence has caused.

But tonight, he sits alone in the darkness, the weight of his failures pressing down on him. The ghost of Madin’s presence is his only companion.