The Daughter Of Stones

Chapter Twenty-Seven. King's Own

Peter wasn't his real name. The King's Own had no real names, only given ones. Every year, they gathered fifty orphans and locked them in the Greystone Forest catacombs for a month with enough food and water for only three to survive. Then a massive stone shaft opened, and three new members of the King's Own were born.

Peter survived. He was smart and never hesitated—that's how he reached the rank of soldier faster than the others. After ten years of excellent service, the nineteen-year-old boy became noticeable enough to receive praise from the Reign Supreme himself.

Peter never enjoyed praise and never asked for it. What he truly loved was knowing more than others, hearing things others could only guess about, and being present behind every closed door of the Palace. Then he fell in love. The King's Own could be close only with their kind. Any outside relationship—and both lovers were eliminated. Too risky. Peter knew that very well; he had conducted several eliminations himself.

He fell in love with a fellow soldier from the King's Own. She was beautiful, angry, and fearsome. She died a year later, strangling herself by the command of an augmentor calajad—a horrible death. Three people died that day: she, the calajad, and the old Peter, who was capable of love.

The only way to become the King's Own Commander was to kill the previous one. It was a way to ensure the current commander wasn't old and careless. Peter had known his Commander for twelve years, studying his habits and routines. That's how he knew when promotion time came.

Peter became the youngest Commander of the King's Own at the age of twenty-four.

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A small clay hut on the outskirts of the forest looked abandoned. The door was open, and cauldrons and potion bottles were scattered at the entrance. Peter pushed the door and slowly walked inside. Two King's Own soldiers followed him, moving in separate directions to prevent any surprise attacks.

"What's that stink?" said one—a man—grimacing from the unpleasant smell in the air.

"I think it was here before they found him," said the other—a woman. "His nickname was Muddy, quite illustrative, you know."

Peter scanned the room, looking for anything unusual and out of place. It was obvious there had been a fight recently. Books were on the floor, cauldrons turned upside down with dried-out potion stains on the wooden floor. He walked over to the kitchen and crouched down, picking up a pile of dust.

"Ash," he said, rubbing the dust between his fingers. "Well, we came a little too late."

Both soldiers looked at him. Peter clapped the ash off his palm and stood up.

"Our Alchemist is a little scattered all over the floor," he said. "Someone was here before us, and now this someone knows where the girl is."

"Can we be certain it's not a stage play?" the woman soldier asked. Peter gave her a cold and unimpressed look.

"I fail to see any other reason to kill a man unless he spilled everything he knew," he replied.

"Should we search for those who visited him? Judging by that potion stain, they were here no longer than three days ago," said the man.

"No. They obviously found out too little and now have no clue of the direction. Otherwise, every bounty hunter in Grailand would've been on the go. Reach out to our agents in every big city—find out if there were any rumors of unusual guests."

"Define unusual, sir," said the man.

"They will have a girl with them who looks like she's not from Grailand at all," Peter said, walking towards the door. "If anyone saw or heard anything, I want to know immediately."

Both soldiers nodded, accepting the order, and followed their Commander outside.

The evening turned out to be quite lovely, with the sun slowly setting behind the forest and the sky turning pinkish-orange. Peter enjoyed the view for a second and then turned to his horse.

"I won't be joining you," he passed one of his soldiers a note. "Give this to Ramed. I'll be waiting for him in Dabuu-Stan in three days. The moment you receive news about the girl—send the bird."

Peter got on his horse and turned the reins, "Easy there. We have a long road ahead. Ha!"

The horse took off, leaving a dusty trail to settle in the evening sun.