Half an hour later, Hook and Ruffus arrived at the town center. Somehow, they had slipped into the courtroom to watch the magistrate’s trial. They tried to be inconspicuous by staying in a hidden corner at the back. They also disguised themselves so no one could identify them.
The trial of Magistrate Torices was already underway.
Hook’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as the final witness took the stand. His blood ran cold.
It was her! The young woman whose first time he took away!
Hook cringed when he saw her kicking his groin area, and not satisfied, she even hit it with the leg of the chair. The magistrate’s blood had soaked the floor, and the silence that followed was the sound of justice echoing through the room. Hook could not take it anymore, and he slipped silently out of the courtroom and out of the Magistrate Building, Ruffus trailing behind.
Outside the courthouse, Ruffus muttered, voice low and unsteady. "Hook... I’m done. I’m leaving. Tonight. If you’ve got any sense left, you’ll do the same."
Hook didn’t respond. His mind was spinning. That woman’s face, the anger it contained, the way she looked through the magistrate—he shivered.
"That woman was merciless. She looked familiar, though." Ruffus continued, his voice growing distant. "Wasn’t she the one you kept on the third floor? The one you bragged about?"
Hook’s pace quickened, strides growing longer. The ghost of the magistrate’s screams played on repeat in his head. Then came the memory of the blood—dark, warm, and pooling fast. The hair on his arms stood on end.
Ruffus was right. He could not stay. The women he defiled would surely haunt and castrate him, and there were many of them.
When they reached the restaurant, they didn’t stop to eat or speak. Instead, they climbed to the third floor, past locked doors and silent rooms. Inside a dim chamber, they slid aside a heavy bed and pried open a hidden compartment beneath it. They took out the silver and gold ingots.
They pocketed as much as they could carry, the rest shoved into a leather satchel that bulged at the seams.
"When we leave, we walk. No running. No panic. We act like nothing’s wrong," Hook said, voice taut. He adjusted his expression in the mirror, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel.
"Right!" Ruffus agreed.
So when the duo left the restaurant and entered their carriage, they walked with measured steps, a picture of calmness as if it was just a natural day.
As the carriage rattled southward, away from the heart of Calma, both men exhaled deeply for the first time.
"What about our families?" Ruffus asked, casting one last glance toward the distant rooftops— the direction of where his house was.
Hook stared ahead. "Just worry about them later. I am confident that they will not be harmed. Northem soldiers are very principled. They would not hurt the innocent, especially women and children."
The rhythmic clop of hooves on the cobblestone filled the silence that followed.
Then Hook turned to Ruffus, suspicion in his gaze. "You have connections everywhere. You mean to say you had no idea the capital was sending people to Calma? That Prince Alaric himself was leading the charge?"
Ruffus shot him a cold look. "How would I know? They’re still rebuilding after the war, aren’t they? Even the magistrate didn’t see this coming. Why are you blaming me?"
Hook sighed. "Why did they suddenly become interested in Calma? They haven’t paid attention to the southern border in the past. Why the sudden interest?"
Ruffus, of course, did not have an answer.
For an hour, they traveled unhindered, the road winding until it brought them to the River Praya—a vast, winding force of nature that marked the border between Zura and Northem.
They followed the old smuggler’s route, a hidden trail long used by human traffickers to cross unnoticed. No guards. No patrols. Just trees, river, and silence.
But as they stepped down from the carriage, ready to board the hidden raft, they were met with cold steel.
Three swords—drawn, gleaming, and aimed at their throats.
"Escaping?" a voice sneered. "Dream on."
Percival. His eyes burned with fury.
Ruffus reacted instantly, throwing up his hands. "We’re merchants! We’re just heading to Zura for business—nothing more."
"Really?" Percival’s tone dripped with venom. "How come you carry nothing in your carriage?"
Hook stepped forward, trying to regain control. "Ah, young men, we do carry a rare tiger pelt. It’s a gift for a valued client across the river—"
"Save it!" Gideon snarled. "Two years ago, you took our sister. You were going to sell her to Zura like livestock."
Hook’s heart skipped a beat. His face tensed—but only for a second. He forced a calm, dismissive laugh. "You’re mistaken. Two years ago, I was far from here, marrying a chieftain’s daughter in the village."
Percival hesitated and glanced at Bener.
But Gideon stepped forward, voice sharp "Ha! Do you think we don’t have evidence against your crime? The fact that you discreetly left Calma to escape to Zura is enough proof of your guilt."
Hook’s mind raced. He could see it now—chains, a trial, perhaps even a public hanging. He’d rather die than be paraded like that. His hand moved, fingers tightening around the hilt at his waist.
"Young men, I don’t understand what you are talking about—" He did not finish his words before lunging back and drawing his blade in one smooth motion. Ruffus seemed to anticipate his move, and he did the same.
"But since you are forcing us, you say hello to Hades." Hook roared as he struck—but Bener parried with ease, steel clashing in a flash of sparks.
Ruffus attacked at the same time. He and Hook had sparred many times before, so they somehow developed a tacit understanding when fighting.
Hook stumbled backward, eyes wide in disbelief as his sword—and the hand holding it—hit the ground. Blood poured from the stump, soaking his sleeve. He let out a strangled cry, pressing the stump against his stomach to stop the bleeding.
Bener’s blade sliced across Hook’s face, opening a gash from his right brow to his cheek. Blood blinded him.
Staggering, he caught sight of Ruffus, struggling, breath ragged. Panic gripped Hook.
No! I couldn’t die here, not .
Desperate, he grabbed Ruffus and shoved him—hard—straight into the sword that had been meant for him.
Ruffus gasped, eyes wide in shock as the blade pierced his chest.
But Hook was already gone.
Hook sprinted to the riverbank with his last strength and threw himself into the cold, murky water. No hesitation. No backward glance. Just a splash—and then nothing.
Ruffus collapsed, hands clutching at the blade, eyes filled with disbelief and betrayal. He looked toward the river that swallowed the man he had once called a friend.
Then darkness took him, and he was no more.