The hunting horn echoed through the forest.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
The sound rolled between the trees like the howl of a beast, followed by the distant thunder of galloping horses.
“They’ve found us!”
Panic erupted.
Children cried.
Several refugees abandoned their carts and fled deeper into the woods.
One wounded soldier stumbled to his knees, whispering prayers beneath his breath.
Sir Roland drew his sword.
“Form a line!”
No one listened.
Fear had already taken hold.
Adrian stood perfectly still.
The forest wasn’t their enemy.
Panic was.
His eyes swept across the terrain.
The abandoned watchtower rose ahead, half-hidden by towering oaks.
Time had claimed much of it.
Part of the outer wall had collapsed, ivy covered the stone, and the wooden gate had long since rotted away.
Yet…
The tower sat atop a rocky hill.
Only a narrow path led to its entrance.
A cavalry charge would lose its greatest advantage.
He turned to Sir Roland.
“How many bows?”
The old knight blinked.
“…Seven.”
“Arrows?”
“Perhaps eighty.”
“Spears?”
“Nine.”
“Swords?”
“Twelve.”
Adrian nodded.
Not enough for a battle.
Enough for a defense.
“Your Highness…” Sir Roland said cautiously.
“What are your orders?”
The surrounding guards fell silent.
They looked at the young prince.
Not because they expected brilliance.
But because tradition demanded they obey the last heir of the crown.
Adrian pointed toward the tower.
“No one runs.”
The words were calm.
Steady.
“If we scatter into the forest, they’ll hunt us one by one.”
He looked toward the refugees.
“Inside the tower.”
“The children first.”
“The elderly second.”
“The wagons will block the entrance.”
Sir Roland’s eyes widened.
“The wagons…”
“They become our barricade.”
The old knight immediately understood.
“Move!”
His voice thundered across the hill.
“Inside!”
The guards sprang into action.
Two wagons were turned sideways across the broken entrance.
Loose stones were piled behind them.
The women carried children into the tower while elderly men gathered anything that could become a weapon.
Axes.
Pitchforks.
Broken tools.
No one complained.
Everyone worked.
For the first time since the capital fell…
They had a purpose.
Adrian climbed the highest point of the ruined wall.
Rain blurred the distant tree line.
He counted.
One rider.
Three.
Five.
More emerged between the trees.
Scouts.
Not the main force.
Good.
That meant the enemy commander was still searching.
A young guard climbed beside him.
“Your Highness…”
“My name is Tomas.”
His voice shook.
“I’ve… I’ve never fought before.”
Adrian looked at him.
Neither had this boy.
Not truly.
Training was nothing like war.
“Are you afraid?”
Tomas lowered his head.
“…Yes.”
“So am I.”
The young guard stared at him in surprise.
Adrian continued.
“Courage isn’t the absence of fear.”
“It’s choosing your duty despite it.”
The words settled into the boy’s heart.
His trembling hands slowly steadied around his spear.
Below, Sir Roland barked another order.
“Archers!”
“Take your positions!”
Seven archers climbed onto the remaining sections of the wall.
Each carefully protected their arrows beneath leather coverings to keep the rain from ruining the fletching.
Adrian watched them with quiet approval.
Disciplined.
Experienced.
They weren’t elite soldiers.
But they hadn’t forgotten their training.
A sharp whistle broke the silence.
An enemy rider emerged from the trees carrying a black banner.
He stopped well beyond bow range.
Another rider joined him.
Then another.
Within moments…
Twenty mounted soldiers stood at the edge of the forest.
Their commander slowly removed his helmet.
Even at a distance, Adrian could see the confidence on the man’s face.
He believed the hunt was over.
The commander raised a hand.
One rider urged his horse forward.
“By order of His Imperial Majesty!”
His voice echoed across the hill.
“Surrender the prince.”
“And the rest of you may yet receive mercy.”
No one answered.
Rain continued to fall.
The rider laughed.
“You hide behind broken stones.”
“You have no army.”
“No kingdom.”
“No future.”
Sir Roland’s grip tightened around his sword.
Several refugees lowered their heads.
The words hurt because they were almost true.
Almost.
Adrian stepped onto the ruined wall.
Every eye turned toward him.
The enemy rider frowned.
“So…”
“The little prince still lives.”
Adrian’s voice remained calm.
“You speak of mercy.”
“Tell me.”
“How many children received that mercy in my capital?”
Silence.
The rider’s smile faded.
Adrian took another step forward.
“My father is dead.”
“My home has burned.”
“My people have lost everything.”
He looked directly into the eyes of the enemy commander.
“And yet…”
“You ask us to trust your promise.”
The commander narrowed his eyes.
“There will be no negotiations.”
He lowered his hand.
“Take the tower.”
The cavalry advanced.
Not at full speed.
The narrow slope forced them into a slow climb.
Exactly as Adrian had hoped.
He raised his own hand.
“Not yet.”
The archers waited.
Thirty paces.
Twenty-five.
The horses struggled over loose stone.
Twenty.
Sir Roland glanced toward the prince.
“Now?”
Adrian’s eyes never left the enemy.
“Closer.”
Fifteen.
The first rider reached the broken path.
“Now.”
Seven bowstrings sang as one.
The arrows cut through the rain.
One rider fell.
Another cried out as an arrow struck his shoulder.
A third horse collapsed, throwing its rider into the mud.
The narrow path instantly became blocked by men and animals.
The charge dissolved into chaos.
Adrian didn’t celebrate.
He simply watched.
The enemy commander wasn’t surprised.
He was smiling.
Then Adrian noticed it.
The commander hadn’t committed his full force.
This attack…
Had only been a test.
Far beyond the tree line…
More hunting horns answered.
One.
Then three.
Then dozens.
Sir Roland’s face drained of color.
“My God…”
Adrian followed his gaze.
The forest itself seemed to move.
Rows of banners appeared between the rain-soaked trees.
Not twenty soldiers.
Not fifty.
An army.
The commander looked up at the ruined watchtower and smiled.
“Prince…”
“You’ve survived the hunt.”
“But can you survive a siege?”
The rain continued to fall.
And for the first time since awakening in this world…
Adrian understood the true scale of the war waiting for him.
End of Chapter 2
————————–The End———————
Next : A King’s Duty
By : Zenryth
“Sometimes, surviving the first battle only earns you the right to face the next.”