The Tyrant's Pet

"… said my boss."

Those were the words Ismael heard before the ropes around his hands and feet came loose. The next thing he knew, the armored knight dragged him out rudely, but he was too stunned to even wonder who was this person, and what they wanted from him.

To add more to this shock, the second Ismael was dragged out of the carriage, he looked around the dark rocky road only to realize there weren\'t hundreds of people who ambushed them.

Just one. This one.

His dilated and shaking eyes shifted to the armored knight, slacked jaw.

"Who… are you?" he blurted out under his breath, even before he could realize how stupid his question was. Much to his dismay, the armored knight replied.

"Conan," said Conan while looking at him with knowing eyes and showing him a thumbs up. "A recruit under the crown prince."

\'A spy?\' Ismael furrowed his brows before he glanced at the dead soldiers scattered around.

All he could think of was whoever this Conan was, he was even more skilled than any master swordsman he had encountered in his life. The remains of the soldiers were the proof and how swiftly he had taken them down was enough for the prince to discern the master of this knight in disguised was someone untouchable.

\'Who?\' he wondered. \'Who is his master?

After everything that had happened and how the events slipped out of his control, a realization dawned on him. Joaquin was untouchable. But with the appearance of this armored knight, Ismael had a feeling it wasn\'t the end just yet.

Still, the question remained. Who was this Conan? And who was the person he was working for?

Did Joaquin make another powerful enemy? Or… was there another participant in this messy power strife they were unaware of? Myriads of questions hovered over Ismael\'s head and none of them were answered.

Ismael could only stare at the armored knight while the latter grumble about his armor. When Conan finally shifted his attention back to him, he tilted his head to the side.

"What?" asked Conan with genuine wonder in his voice.

"Who… sent you?" once again, the third prince blurted out, noticing that they weren\'t moving from their spot as if Conan was waiting for someone. The latter was also oddly relaxed despite being surrounded by the crown prince\'s dead soldiers. Ismael was certain Joaquin would send his people to look for them if they didn\'t arrive on time.

"You\'ll figure it out soon," Conan replied, hands on his hips, looking up. "What\'s taking him so long…? I can\'t leave this place like this. Knowing him, he needs detailed instructions."

Ismael furrowed his brows before he discreetly looked around. He was no longer bound, and although he had a broken arm, he could still flee. Glancing at the armored knight who was busy looking in the sky, he took a careful step back to make a run for it.

"Running away will not help you." He froze when Conan spoke without looking back at him. "You can run away now and I won\'t come after you. However, if you do, you\'ll be branded as a traitor of the nation, and you will be on the run as a felon. Forever."

Conan paused as he looked back at the third prince. "You don\'t want that, do you? You believe you\'re innocent and did nothing wrong. So, why would you live in hiding when the person who needs to be punished walks freely?"

Ismael opened and closed his mouth, but he had already lost his voice. What Conan said was nothing but facts.

If he run away now, he might avoid standing on the gallows on the morrow, but then he would be a wanted man with a bounty on his head. Knowing Joaquin, he would surely give out a kill on sight order.

Ismael couldn\'t think of anything else to turn things around anymore. The trial that awaits him was rigged, and the verdict was already set in stone. Everything that would come afterward was solely for formality.

"How do I get away from it…?" he hung his head low as helplessness sank deep into his bones.

"My employer had a way. Just come with me and you get to live and keep your title." Ismael raised his ashen face at the armored knight, before shifting his eyes towards the galloping horse coming in their direction. "You\'ll meet my employer soon. You decide by then."

Conan cast him a look. "You can take my advice with a pinch of salt, but from my experience, if you want to live and stand victorious in the end, don\'t be dumb."

As soon as the last syllable escaped his mouth, Conan gazed at the person riding the horse while holding the rein of another. He clicked his tongue, stomping his way towards the steeds while a lean man in a cloak jumped out of the horse.

"Morro, what the heck?! I said I need a ride!"

"Can\'t you ride on these?" asked the man whose half of his face was covered with the hood of his cloak, and only his razor teeth could be seen.

"I meant a carriage! I don\'t like riding a horse! It\'s a pain in the arse!"

"Just fly then."

"I wish!" Conan grumbled and huffed, snatching the reins grumpily. "Clean this area and make sure not a strand of hair is left! We can\'t mess this up, alright?! Or else, you and I, no, just you! You will die! You get me?!"

"I miss being a bird. I should\'ve surrendered to that abomination and let him put back my seal," mumbled the man in cloak named Morro, dragging his feet towards the bodies loitering the area.

"Goodness… I should\'ve looked for better friends who will respect my vacation time." Conan grumbled. Although he was the one who proposed to help Aries, the people he asked for assistance would rather smirk right in his face or, just like Morro, who needed precise instructions or he would mess everything up.

By the time he looked back at Ismael, his mood was near rock bottom. "Come, Prince. Let\'s go meet my boss," he urged, tipping his head in the horses\' direction.

Ismael just looked at him with blank eyes before he nodded and stammered.

"Ye — yes."