Player Chapter 21. Prince and Saint
'Am I cursed with bad romance?' Riven complained internally.
He tightened his grip on the reins as the horse trotted forward at an annoyingly stable pace. In front of him, literally pressed into his personal space, was the fake vampire, still bound in frost restraints, arms secured and posture stiff from both fear and cold.
This was not how he imagined today going.
He had just fought off dozens of attackers in cinematic fashion. He had bled. He had delivered morally ambiguous one-liners. And now?
Now he looked like the villain transporting his own kidnapped theatre actor.
Worse… he was sitting behind him.
Behind.
Like this was some kind of extremely questionable riding arrangement.
If someone sketched this from afar, it would not look heroic.
It would look… concerning.
He shifted slightly in the saddle. The fake vampire flinched.
"Relax," Riven muttered. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've finished the job back there."
The man swallowed audibly.
On the side, riding at the same pace, Elena sat in front of the prince. She was stiff. Very stiff. Like someone who had just discovered gravity was optional and she did not approve.
The prince sat behind her, posture controlled, careful not to hold her too tightly. One arm around her waist, just enough to stabilize. The picture was absurdly noble.
Prince and Saint.
Silhouetted against the road like a painting commissioned for propaganda.
Riven's eye twitched slightly.
Of course.
Of course, rock paper scissors betrayed him. He was always bad with it. Ironic.
The VR Champion sucks at rock paper scissors.
He glanced sideways again. The prince caught the look.
"You okay there, Riven?" the prince asked mildly. "You don't look too happy with the result."
Riven forced a smile that absolutely did not reach his eyes. "I'm good. Don't worry. I'm the one who tied him. Feels rude not to commit."
The prince's lips curved faintly. "Good."
Riven wanted to throw him off the horse.
"Don't worry," the prince continued calmly. "We're arriving in town soon."
"Yup," Riven replied flatly.
Internally, however?
He was running simulations.
Not about the prisoner. Not about the temple.
About positioning.
He hated that the prince looked good like this. He hated that Elena looked, despite being awkward and mildly terrified of falling, composed. He hated that together they resembled a narrative.
And Riven?
He looked like the morally gray antihero escorting his personal hostage.
The horse shifted slightly under him. The fake vampire tried to lean forward as if to create distance. Riven pulled him back with one arm, casually.
"Don't," he warned coldly.
Elena heard the tone. She didn't turn her head, but her shoulders tightened slightly. Not in fear. In awareness.
'He switches like that,' she thought.
Playful. Then cold. Then playful again.
It was… unsettling.
And yet she trusted him.
Which was more unsettling.
The town gates came into view slowly. Wooden beams. Stone watchtower. Guards already gathered at the entrance, clearly alerted by the flare earlier.
Riven inhaled once.
Alright. Showtime.
They rode in.
And yes.
All eyes locked on them.
First reaction? Recognition.
Saint Elena Vale.
Second reaction?
Shock.
The prince.
Even disguised in bloodied commoner clothes, noble bearing was hard to erase. A murmur rippled through the crowd.
But then.
Then the eyes shifted.
And settled.
On Riven.
Not the fake vampire.
Riven.
Blood-splattered coat. Calm posture. One hand loosely holding the reins, the other holding the frost chain. Eyes sharp. Chin slightly raised.
He didn't glare.
He simply looked back.
Like he was evaluating them.
Which was worse.
"Yeah, I just killed someone," his expression practically said.
He didn't smile.
The villain vibe was strong. Stronger than the actual captive.
[Public Fear Index: Moderate to High.]
"Not my fault," he muttered under his breath.
A guard stepped forward, eyes wide. "Saint Elena! Your Highness-"
The prince raised a hand slightly. Subtle. Authority. The guard immediately straightened.
Riven rolled his eyes internally.
Of course.
Hierarchy.
Elena slid off the horse first, slightly awkward, nearly misjudging the distance. The prince steadied her smoothly.
Riven noticed that too.
Again.
He dismounted in one fluid motion, hauling the fake vampire down with him. Less fluid. More thud.
The captive stumbled.
"Careful," Riven said lightly. "Wouldn't want you bruised before interrogation."
A few guards exchanged looks.
They weren't sure if he was joking.
He wasn't entirely sure either.
The prince stepped forward. "Seal the gates," he ordered calmly. "No one enters or leaves without inspection."
The authority in his voice changed the air. Guards moved immediately.
Elena turned toward Riven. For a split second, their eyes met.
There it is again, she thought. That spark.
He looks like he enjoys this too much.
He tilted his head slightly at her.
"You worried?"
She straightened. "No."
Good.
The crowd parted instinctively as they walked toward the central road. Whispers followed.
"Is that…?"
"Who is he?"
"Did he kill them all?"
Riven's lips twitched faintly.
He didn't confirm. He didn't deny.
He let the ambiguity breathe.
Elena glanced sideways at him. "You look very… intense."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She blinked. "Good?"
"If we look confident, less people will test us."
She considered that.
It made sense.
She hated that it made sense.
They reached the inner courtyard near the administrative hall. Guards formed a loose perimeter. The prince stepped forward again.
"We take him to the truth chamber," he said quietly.
Riven's eyes flicked to Elena.
She nodded once. "I'll prepare it."
He studied her for half a second. She was tired. He could see it now in the faint slack of her fingers.
"You sure?" he asked quietly.
She met his gaze. "I'm not fragile."
"I didn't say you were."
Silence.
The prince cleared his throat. "We move."
Riven tugged the frost chain again. The captive stumbled obediently.
As they walked toward the temple steps, Riven glanced up at the tall spires.
He didn't trust institutions.
He trusted her.
Which was inconvenient.
Elena felt the same discomfort from a different angle.
She didn't trust politics.
She trusted him.
Also inconvenient.
They stopped at the chamber doors.