Serin paused, his bread halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Kennard, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Suddenly concerned about Miss Hazel’s safety?”
“Not particularly,” Kennard replied, his appetite waning. He had mentioned Hazel first but found himself suddenly uninterested in the topic.
“Miss Hazel left after the soldiers arrived. She probably saw the carriages preparing to depart,” Serin continued.
“Is that so?” Kennard had been with Elena when the soldiers arrived and Hazel left, and hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. Now, he realized the soldiers had arrived before Hazel departed.
“Are you worried about having sent Miss Hazel back? You never know how His Majesty might react…” Serin grimaced.
“I said no. The soldiers took a detour due to the landslide,” Kennard replied.
“That’s right,” Serin agreed. “They could scale the mountains in their wolf forms, but Hazel had to go by carriage.”
“That’s true,” Kennard admitted.
As Kennard spoke, Serin’s eyes widened slightly. “There’s no other way for a carriage to return.”
“Are you saying Miss Hazel might come back?”
“Let’s hope not,” Serin replied. “The thought of seeing her again is terrifying.” He rubbed his cheeks, his reaction understandable given the recent danger to Elena and his sister, Cura.
“Given the stern warning His Grace issued, is it likely she would return? Surely, she could find another inn nearby.”
“That’s probable. But we should still be prepared for the possibility, however slim.”
“Is that why you’re hurrying to clear the landslide?” Serin asked, his words hitting the mark.
Clearing the path was crucial for the people’s livelihood, but Kennard had a more personal motivation. He wanted to prevent Hazel from returning. If he had to face her again, he feared he might lose control.
The Blade Duke’s anger and the Emperor’s wrath were not his concern. He simply wanted to avoid further complications and ensure his time with Elena was uninterrupted.
***
“What in the world…” Serin muttered, looking around.
Kennard stood a few steps back, surveying the scene with Serin. The sight left them speechless.
The soldiers had been right: the landslide had occurred. Soil, boulders, and trees had tumbled down from the mountain, covering the forest on the other side of the path. The pile of soil towered over Kennard, or at least, it had before someone cleared a narrow passage.
The path was just wide enough for a single carriage and was flanked by massive dirt walls. Even where the path was cleared, muddy soil remained, and rocks were scattered around.
Kennard cautiously stepped forward, examining the ground with each step. The melting snow had revealed clear traces of recent activity. Wheel tracks from multiple carriages, hoofprints of horses, and the footprints of numerous people moving back and forth were evident, all leading from Terra Demorte towards the capital. In some spots, deep indentations in the ground indicated where carriages and horses had stood for a while.
“Who cleared this path?” Serin asked, following closely behind Kennard.
“Could it have been the local residents?” Kennard replied absently, his eyes still on the ground.
They passed the dirt walls and surveyed the area. The climate here was noticeably warmer than in Terra Demorte, with trees beginning to bud.
Kennard closely examined the numerous footprints, as if committing them to memory, then suddenly leapt onto the dirt wall.
“Be careful, it could collapse,” Serin warned, following him onto the opposite wall.
Footprints were scattered atop the mound of dirt as well.
“It seems the locals may have cleared the path, as you suggested. Their lives depend on it,” Serin said.
“That’s possible,” Kennard replied, his tone still indifferent. A mysterious ringing echoed in his head, like a distant bell. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was nagging at the back of his mind.
The footprints continued to puzzle him. Though they varied in size, the shapes pressed into the dirt were strikingly similar.
Kennard closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the cool air. After a moment, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. Without hesitation, he leaped down from the wall and ventured into the forest.
Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting thin, thread-like beams between the trees.
“Where are you going?” Serin called out, hurrying after him.
Kennard ignored the question, his attention focused on the trail of footprints leading deeper into the forest. Although some prints were obscured by leaves and stones, the path was clear.
“Serin,” Kennard halted abruptly, his gaze fixed on the footprints before him.
“What is it?” Serin stood beside him, looking down at the ground.
“What…?” Kneeling down, Serin traced the edges of the footprints with his fingers and then looked up at Kennard with a puzzled expression.
“Was I right?”
“Yes, they’re fox footprints,” Kennard confirmed.
Serin brushed off his palms and stood up slowly. His face revealed a mix of intense frustration and confusion.
