129 | doubt; a testament to loyalty

Niklas held tightly onto a thick parcel of paper, wedged inside a brown leather slip.

His hair formed into raven curls, loosely hanging over his ears and his eyes had narrowed, dark and mysterious, full of allure. It was an appearance that was seductive, dangerous, and curious.

He'd grown used to wearing the mask of the Organizer, an all-knowing being that never had any flaws.

Every word a tantalizing bite, buried with intrigue and hidden meanings that one could only wonder.

But now, he held the parcel with trembling hands, laughing in mocking to himself softly as he watched the chasing soldiers from high above the trees.

A tree that left him breathless to climb, sweat dripping down his back and a red fluster to his cheeks.

He was a fake; he'd always been.

It was a miracle that he deluded himself into believing he could be somebody—enough to save Kaden Chauvet when he in fact was damning that sinner's soul.

Earlier, Wisteria had looped around the maze, frowning deeply as he sniffed the air and twisted his head.

"It's hard to track them in this maze—the air is abnormal. They seem to be... around the area where we parted from that girl."

"That girl's name is Holly," said Niklas, patting the thin back that he laid on. "But that's strange. Let's head back. She might be in danger, and I won't risk that."

"Am I your dog?"

"I would consider you a lovely horse right now, dear comrade."

"I'll drop you off the edge."

"You won't."

Wisteria had clicked his tongue, thrice for good measure, and after displaying his annoyance, circled back. There, he discovered Nicola, and to his surprise, the two professors from the Academy.

Raymond beamed, waving and Alexander nodded quietly in acknowledgment. They briefly filled him in on the details and Nicola's plan.

She'd thrust a thick parcel of papers into his hands and he grabbed onto them with bewilderment.

"Niklas. I'm afraid I'll be relying on you for the next step."

Niklas frowned, tightening his hold on the package. He was a person who always longed to be admirable and relied on, but in fact, hated when he actually was.

What he feared was failing to live up to other's expectations.

He'd seen it in his rebirth, the disappointed faces of the servants as he failed to live to his father's legacy. He wasn't as strong and wasn't as wise—charming he was, certainly, but what else?

Nicola was keenly aware of these things and smiled stiffly. "It's only you that can place a spark of doubt in that soldier's mind. He's young but loyal. And yet, he is not a bad person."

"I—how can I? I understand your plan, Pres, I do. It's a good plan. But if it's somebody like that, it's not the same. It's not the same as tricking people in the Underground."

"It's not." She clasped her hands over his reassuringly, swallowing. "And yet I can't think of anything else."

And so he had agreed, left with no other options.

Wisteria had left to guard the trio—and to sniff out the location of the third prince that had slipped inside the lands and then fled to complete his unknown task.

But there was no time to find Kaden—a key player in the plan to reveal Reed's intentions.

However, Niklas had a feeling. That their confrontation would reveal a dozen truths that even the most loyal soldier wouldn't be privy to.

That was why he needed to make a move, and soon.

He asked Wisteria to make a commotion, luring the other soldiers away. The young soldier, Thames, had been listening quietly to the surroundings near the back of the group.

That was why, after a loud noise came from within the maze, deep within the forest's clusters and tangles, it was only Thames who heard a light laughter coming from behind.

The young soldier spun around, his thick eyebrows tightly knitted, and held onto the hilt of his sword tightly.

He spun around the cluster of slender, twisted trees, thrusting his sword out. The tip rested against the delicate point of a man's throat.

"Who are you?"

The man laughed deeply, even as the voice caused his throat to roll, drawing a gleam of red to trickle down. "I wonder? Yesterday I was somebody else, today I am another, and tomorrow, only the world knows."

Thames frowned, his youthful eyes darting around cautiously. "Don't speak in riddles. I demand you answer me now!"

Pity flashed in the dark eyes. "You're a demanding young man—those impatient often overlook the truth. The truth, in question, do you know what it is?"

"What are you saying?" The soldier stood firm, irritation rolling over his shoulders.

"I'm saying, young man, that you should ask yourself who I am and what I would be doing here with the pitiful you."

The soldier's eyes flashed, observing the beautiful, languid person before him. Such an attitude was familiar and flippant. There was one he knew that spoke in riddles and could laugh with a sword at his throat.

It wasn't a person he ever met directly, but as one of Reed's soldiers, he had ventured into the Underground businesses and had a vague understanding.

There was no person who could glimpse that dirty world and not know the existence of the Organizer.

His fame had only grown in the years, lazily lounging in the shadows, orchestrating deals, and playing with impossible secrets at the tip of his tongue, as if he knew the future.

But why would such a man be here?

The black-eyed man's smile grew. "Why? Are you wondering that? Of course, it's because I enjoy watching a good play. Life is terribly boring."

In the midst of thinking, the soldier's thoughts had been easily exposed. He faltered, slightly flustered.

In the face of a mysterious but infamous person, with the tension of the battle racing through his beating heart, his mind fell into a muddle.

Opposing him, the black-eyed man watched him with interest. He calmly took a step back, holding onto a parcel.

He waved it languidly before him.

"Here lies information that will test your loyalty to the Crown."

"Nonsense!" The soldier stumbled, swallowing hard. "My loyalty to His Highness, the Crown Prince, far extends your measly information! Do not include me in your ploys."

Thames had come from a poor upbringing, and it had taken all of his seconds, all of his time to reach this position.

To the beautiful and charming Crown Prince who stretched out a hand and accepted him, despite his upbringing. There was never discrimination or dislike in those cold blue eyes.

He had spent so many years devoted to reaching the Crown Prince, and finally he was accepted.

How could he be swayed by words, by a mere parcel of paper that could be forged? The Crown Prince had endless enemies, and it was easy for them to target him.

The Organizer looked at him with a shake of his head, shrugging. "That prince has so many loyal people, and yet he couldn't hold onto any of them. What a shame."

"What are you—"

"Did you wonder? When you saw Nicola Akasha, the woman whom Reed Chauvet placed deep importance on? Did you wonder of her hatred despite his love running deep?"

"There are many that despise him for no reason! That woman is the same!"

"Is she? Did you look at her eyes and believe that to be true? Are you so blind, young man, that you foolishly choose not to question the reality before you?"

The Organizer snickered, sighing lightly. "Ah, well. If the Prince has such a foolish follower, then it will be entertaining all the same."

The soldier did not see that the hand held behind the other's back was tightly clenched, trembling.

High above, a dark shadow circled the skies, stealthily blending in with the night.

In his bewilderment, he did not hear the desperation dragging the edges of the Organizer's voice.

The Organizer indifferently tossed over the parcel, hitting heavily onto the soldier's chest and sliding to the ground. It fell at his feet, heavy.

"If you trust that Prince, why do you fear your doubt?"

The Organizer looked up, as if hearing a voice echoing from the skies. His eyes trembled lightly but his expression quickly smoothened.

"You loyal and beautiful prince awaits ahead. Follow the path and take three rights and one left, and you will see him. Watch him with your own eyes and consider—was the man you chose really the man you believed you knew?"

The voice seemed loud, suddenly, penetrating the young soldiers thoughts. He stared at the ground with a tremble, but when he swung his head up, the man was gone.

The trees shook around him, swaying under the fragments of aurora that reflected onto their dark leaves.

Only the parcel lay in front of him, and a small stone with a note.

'A betrayal should be met with vengeance. If he betrays you—of course, he won't, as you believe—then play this recording before everybody. I believe you should understand how to use it; hasn't the prince taught you how?'

Thames indeed knew how to use the small stone, seemingly unimportant. He'd used it before to record conversations for the prince.

The Organizer's taunts rang in his head sharply. But truly, if he believed in the Prince, why would he fear the other's words?

But at the same time, if he really believed the Prince, he wouldn't dare think of opening these papers or holding onto this stone. Because he would know they were insignificant.

But the Organizer was an unfathomable person. He would involve himself at random, and disappear at other moments.

Nobody could have a read on him.

But that was the very thing that made his words powerful.

Unfortunately, no matter how deep one's loyalty ran, doubt was a filthy thing that always left a stain.

Once discovered, a person would desperately try to erase that stain. Sometimes, they would succeed, but often, a mark would remain. Other times, they would try to scrub it away only to spread the stain further.

The soldier bent down slowly to pick up the parcel and the stone, trembling.

Then, he turned down the maze.

———xxx———

Niklas gasped, hanging from the tree by his collar as two hands grabbed him loosely, tossing him over the twisting branch. He clung to it, gasping.

Wisteria looked at him with disgust. "I was the one who lifted you—why are you wheezing?"

"I think anybody—cough—would be wheezing if they were–cough–dragged by the collar and flung into a tree!"

"Humans. So dramatic."

Niklas squinted at him, waving him off. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, thanks, comrade. I was worried you wouldn't make it in time."

During the exchange with the soldier, Niklas had been simultaneously corresponding with Wisteria in his head. It had been a scratchy, loud voice that ticked his brain and startled him.

Wisteria located Reed's location and flew over to remind Niklas—only to hear a plea to help him escape once the conversation was over to maintain a mysterious and lingering atmosphere.

Wisteria had refused, until Niklas peer pressured him by stating that his failure would be Noah's failure, and the world would end and everybody would die, including Noah.

The key word: Noah.

All this had been done within seconds—truly, Niklas had a talented skill in rapidly speaking and poking at other's insecurities.

Wisteria swore that once everything was over, he would personally drive his claws through that annoying human's chest. Thrice, for good measure.

Niklas draped over the branch, catching his breath. He heaved out a sigh.

"Hey, do you think it was enough?"

Wisteria lazily crouched on the tree, peering over with a frown. "Isn't that human running along to the prince?"

"You're right."

"And you have a talent for irritating people and stirring doubt. Humans are weak. With your status and the doubt, he will run along obediently. Then, it'll be that prince who reveals the truth."

Niklas sighed again and Wisteria hissed. "Stop sighing. It's irritating and depressing."

"Coming from you, the personification of gloominess?"

"I really would like to kill you."

"Wait until later, little dragon friend."

"Stop calling me that. I'm neither little, nor your friend or a comrade."

"Yes, yes, little dragon friend comrade."

A vein ticked on the young dragon's face, and he viciously bared his sharp and pointed teeth. Niklas stared with boredom. "What? Are you showing off your shiny teeth? Like a little kid."

Wisteria growled, like a feline cat that had been poked. "I'll really kill you."

"You've already said that." Niklas laid there, his body hanging on the branch casually as he rubbed his chin. "By the Watchers, I'm still anxious."

Wisteria snorted. "You've been lying for so many years."

"You don't get used to it, believe me. Knowing everything while everybody knows nothing—do you understand that burden? I'm walking on eggshells and there's no end."

"I don't get it."

"Course you don't. I don't expect you to either, little dragon friend comrade—"

"Shut up!"

Niklas laughed loudly as the tree shook from Wisteria's anger, but his deep blue eyes showed a trace of anxiety and hesitation.

They had no time to inform Kaden.

He considered asking Wisteria to fly over and transmit his thoughts, but the dragon complained that it used a lot of energy to connect his mind to more than one person at a time.

It could be done, but it would wear out Wisteria's mind and they also weren't sure if they could explain everything in time.

"Alright, alright. I guess we should do something."

Wisteria sniffed the air, eyes narrowing. Niklas stared at the dragon curiously and smiled. "You're really like a dog."

"...I'll leave you here to hang."

That was an effective threat. Niklas straightened and cleared his throat. "Sorry, holy dragon lord, please forgive me."

Wisteria tilted his head, seemingly pleased. "I smell soldiers in the air. There are many in this area, likely surrounding Reed. I can try to transmit a thought to that sinner—but we'll have to take care of the surrounding soldiers too."

"Let's not waste time then."

"You're saying that as if you'll be useful."

Niklas grinned, patting his pockets. "Believe it or not, I have many useful little tools."

Wisteria eyed him and reluctantly swung him over his shoulder like a potato sack, leaping down from the tree. His wings spread out in a beautiful, slender arc.

Soon, they too ventured deeper into the maze.