Chapter 279: v3 - 40: a new beginning I

Chapter 279: v3 Chapter 40: a new beginning I

Cassian rose from his knee.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then Lorenz’s expression returned to its usual calm.

Marcus understanding the matter settled spoke of the logistics.

"You have an hour."

Cassian looked at him.

"An hour?"

"To collect your belongings and prepare yourself. We will settle the remaining arrangements with the Arena. The paperwork should be completed within the hour."

Cassian nodded.

"I understand."

"Good."

Lorenz looked at him again.

"We will bring you with us once everything is settled."

Cassian bowed his head.

"Yes, your Highness."

He turned to leave.

Cassian left.

The door closed behind him.

Silence settled over the room.

Lorenz was the first to speak.

"What do you think?"

Marcus considered the question.

"His identity remains a mystery."

Lorenz nodded.

"We have found nothing more."

Lorenz walked back toward the desk.

"And his behavior?"

Marcus thought for a moment.

"I believe he meant what he said."

"About his loyalty?"

"Yes."

Marcus’s expression remained thoughtful.

"His actions are consistent with it. He knew the danger of revealing his Imperial technique, yet he did so because he wanted to prove his worth to us."

He paused.

"And when given the opportunity to pledge himself, he did not hesitate."

Lorenz nodded slowly.

"I saw that."

"He understands loyalty."

Lorenz glanced at him.

"You believe he will be loyal to our cause?"

"Based on what I have seen, yes."

Marcus hesitated.

"I believe he will serve well."

Lorenz’s gaze drifted toward the closed door.

"So do I."

There was something about the man that continued to interest him.

The swordsmanship was one thing.

His composure was another.

But it was the small things that Lorenz found most curious.

The way he had spoke the Imperial language.

The way he had assessed the room.

The way he had knelt without hesitation.

That gesture in particular had stayed with him.

It had not been the awkward imitation of a commoner trying to impress a nobleman.

He had known exactly what he was doing.

Lorenz had seen enough men bow and kneel to recognize the difference.

What sort of life had Carlo lived before the Arena?

The question lingered.

But Lorenz let it go.

There would be time to learn.

For now, the important thing was that the man may prove himself useful.

And, for reasons Lorenz could not quite explain, he rather liked him.

Marcus gathered the documents.

"We should leave."

Lorenz nodded.

"Yes."

--

Cassian returned to his quarters with little to gather.

Twenty-one months in the Arena had taught him not to accumulate possessions.

A few changes of clothing.

A handful of personal things.

The small amount of money he had managed to save.

That was nearly everything.

He packed them into a worn bag given by the arena at some point.

Then he stopped.

He looked around the room.

He had spent nearly two years here.

It was not a pleasant place.

Nothing about it made him want to linger.

He had no fond memories of the walls, the fights, or the countless days spent wondering whether he would survive the next match.

And yet, he could not deny that the Arena had taught him something.

It had taught him how to survive without a name.

How to endure without hope.

How to observe before acting, and how to recognize what a man was capable of before he showed it.

Most importantly, it had taught him patience.

For twenty-one months, he had waited.

And somehow, that patience had finally brought him to this moment.

He tightened the strap of his bag.

Less than an hour later, he was ready.

--

The carriage waiting outside the Arena was unmarked.

No crest.

No royal colors.

Nothing that would draw attention.

Cassian climbed inside after Marcus.

Marcus took one side of the carriage.

Cassian sat beside him.

Lorenz was seated opposite them.

After everything that had just been agreed upon, Cassian had no intention of forgetting the difference in their positions.

The carriage began moving.

For a while, no one spoke.

Cassian looked through the window.

The Arena slowly disappeared behind them.

He watched it until the walls were no longer visible.

Twenty-one months.

He had spent twenty-one months behind those walls.

And now he was leaving.

Not as a free man.

Not entirely.

But no longer as Three Hundred and Nineteen either.

Lorenz broke the silence.

"You can relax."

Cassian glanced toward him.

"You are no longer in the Arena."

Cassian gave a small nod.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lorenz smiled faintly.

"You don’t have to call me that every time you speak."

Cassian’s expression remained polite.

"I would rather not become careless."

Marcus glanced at him.

There was the faintest trace of approval in his eyes.

Lorenz, however, only smiled.

"Very well."

He leaned back.

"Then at least tell me this."

Cassian waited.

"Carlo."

"Yes?"

"Is that actually your name?"

Cassian was silent for a moment.

Then he answered,

"It is the name I have used here."

Lorenz studied him.

"And the one you wish us to use?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

There was no pressure in Lorenz’s voice.

"Carlo it is."

Cassian inclined his head.

"Thank you."

The carriage continued through the city.

Lorenz’s gaze wandered over him again.

This time, Cassian noticed.

He can tell what the man was looking at.

His hair was still an unruly mess.

The beard that covered much of his jaw had grown long.

His face was weathered from months of hardship.

He looked nothing like the man he had once been.

But that had been deliberate.

From the moment he entered the Arena, Cassian had avoided anything that might make him recognizable.

He had never trimmed his beard properly.

Never bothered with his hair.

Never given anyone a reason to look twice.

It had been safer that way.

Then, Lorenz spoke.

"When we arrive, I want you to clean yourself up."

Cassian looked at him.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then the thought occurred to him.

He could.

He no longer needed to hide so carefully.

He had spent nearly two years dead to the Empire.

No one here knew his face.

No one here was looking for Cassian Ashford.

And now he would be under the direct protection of the Crown Prince.

If he walked beside Lorenz, no one would question why he was there.

There was little reason to continue looking like a man who had deliberately disappeared from the world.

Cassian’s fingers brushed against his beard.

It was long.

Far too long.

And irritating.

He had grown accustomed to the itch, but that did not mean he had ever liked it.

Neither did he miss the tangled hair constantly falling into his eyes.

For the first time in a very long while, he could actually do something about it.

A proper bath.

Clean clothes.

A barber.

The thought was unexpectedly appealing.

Cassian nodded.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lorenz’s mouth curved faintly.

"Good."

Cassian turned his attention back toward the window.

He found himself looking forward to it more than he cared to admit.

After twenty-one months in the Arena, even the simple privilege of feeling clean again seemed like a luxury.

--

Tbc