The moon hung low over the capital, blanketed in a dense fog that seemed to hush even the loudest of footsteps. While the nobles danced in ivory halls and guards patrolled the outer gates, something far darker slithered past the city's defenses. A cloaked figure crept through the shadows, his path lined with sleeping sentries and silent doors. Moments later, a scream echoed faintly—then silence.
At the palace, King Admound was pacing in his chamber like a lion in a shrinking cage. He gritted his teeth, his robes disheveled, and his crown resting on the armrest instead of his head.
"They took him," the commander whispered in a voice torn between rage and despair. "My son... from inside the garrison."
The King slammed his fist on the table. "How? How? Not even my most trusted guards sensed an intruder! This reeks of internal betrayal."
"Should I assemble the council?"
"No. I don't know who to trust," the King snapped. "Not even among my advisors."
The commander hesitated. "Then... what do we do?"
Admound stared out the window, eyes clouded with worry but glinting with a flicker of hope. "We send for him." He reached under his throne and pulled out a sealed scroll, laced in magical thread. "Sabel will know what to do."
At the café...
Sabel sat on the rooftop, sipping his late-night brew with his boots up and eyes half-shut, watching Percy the parrot attempt to flirt with a pigeon. The café was unusually quiet for the evening, save for Rosemary sweeping leftover crumbs off the floor while muttering about "certain princes never cleaning up after themselves."
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the air, slapping Sabel in the face with a glowing parchment.
"Oi—!" he yelled, nearly spilling his drink. He caught the scroll mid-air and squinted at the royal seal. "Ugh. That's not a bill..."
As he broke the seal, the parchment whispered directly into his ear: "Come alone. Bring no attention. The kingdom depends on you."
Sabel stood slowly. "Tch. Of course the kingdom depends on me. They always do when the soup's already spoiled."
Without a word, he flicked his fingers, transforming his apron into a deep violet cloak and flipping his coffee cup into a short-bladed staff. He turned to Rosemary with a grin.
"Tell no one I left. Especially not the parrot. He talks too much."
"You owe me three cups of clean dishes!" she called after him.
The Capital Outskirts — Midnight
Sabel arrived under the cloak of night, entering through a secret passage beneath the garden well. There, in a torch-lit stone chamber beneath the palace, stood King Admound cloaked in shadow. The two locked eyes.
"You've aged," Sabel smirked.
"And you've... somehow regressed," Admound replied dryly.
"What happened?"
The King wasted no time. "Someone broke into the city and kidnapped Commander Grell's son—without raising a single alarm. I've lost contact with several patrols and my own court mage has disappeared."
"Sounds like an inside job."
"I believe so," the King whispered, pacing. "But I can't root out the traitor without alerting them. That's why I need you. You're the only one I trust."
"You're getting soft, old man," Sabel replied, though his tone lacked its usual teasing lilt. His eyes were sharp, calculating. "Where was the boy taken?"
"Last known sighting was near the eastern granaries. There's...something else. The guards on shift—when we found them, they weren't dead. They were asleep. Cursed asleep. Like someone cast mass slumber on them."
Sabel frowned. "Dark magic... possibly fairy-based."
Admound nodded. "I want you to investigate alone. If the traitor hears of this, they might move the boy or worse—kill him."
Sabel spun his staff in his hand. "I'll find him. And when I do, I expect double pay in roasted coffee beans."
The King smirked faintly. "Just bring him back alive."