Time was passing slowly. My brother Rufus and I sat inside the wooden cabin of our hidden treehouse, wrapped in thick silence, waiting for our guest.The one I told you I was so eager to meet... Kilarys Osawa.

  Rufus had his legs crossed, one hand resting over his mouth as he stared blankly into the corner of the room. His expression was twisted in a mix of boredom and something heavier-restlessness, maybe. Without turning to look at me, he muttered,- Are you sure you didn't give him the wrong address?

  - I'm sure. Unless... he couldn't find the place at all.

  He let out a slow, annoyed breath and rubbed his eyes.- Rubius... I asked you for one thing.

  Just as he was about to get up, the sound of quiet, deliberate footsteps echoed from above. Someone was walking across the wooden rooftop.Rufus froze for a second, then sank back down into his place.- Go see if it's him. If it is, bring him in... just make sure Fleria doesn't find out. Got it?

  - I know. I'll be careful.

  I climbed up through the narrow tunnel hidden among the thick branches and peered out with caution.Moonlight barely revealed the figure of a man standing on the bridge that led to our treehouse. Broad-shouldered, solid, and imposing-he looked like someone who had spent his entire life doing hard labor. His hair was dark, slightly wavy, falling past his shoulders, and part of it was tied into a loose knot behind his head. His clothes were simple and clean-white, unadorned-but they somehow gave him a quiet authority.

  He stood there, arms crossed, gazing out silently over the dark valley below, his posture strong, his presence steady like carved stone. There was something about him... something unshakable.

  With a hint of uncertainty in my voice, I whispered under my breath,- ...Kilarys Osawa?Kilarlys turned sharply at the sound of his name, surprise flickering in his eyes as he finally spotted me-half-hidden in the narrow tunnel suspended between air and bark. His brows furrowed as suspicion crept into his features.- You're... Rufus?

  - Rubius. His twin brother. We've been waiting for you down in the cabin beneath the bridge. My brother's still there, waiting.

  Kilarys let out a short, sharp exhale that almost resembled a chuckle.- Too tired to walk up here himself? And yet he expects me to follow a stranger into the dark? Not a chance, boy.

  Before I could respond, a voice rose behind me-firm but respectful.- As my brother said, we've waited quite a while. Forgive the boldness. No disrespect was intended.

  Kilarys' jaw tightened.- I've traveled a long road to get here. Had to be certain of my affairs... and my daughter's safety... before I set out. I don't trust lightly.

  Rufus's tone softened as he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.- I understand. You must be exhausted. Why don't you come inside, where it's warm? We can talk properly there, no ears, no eyes.

  Kilarys narrowed his eyes.- Inside where?

  - A hidden place we built for meetings like this. Only Rubius and I know about it. It's quiet. Safe. Well-stocked. There's no need to worry.

  A long pause followed. Then, wordlessly, Kilarys moved forward. His heavy boots landed on the wooden planks of the bridge with slow, deliberate weight. I stepped back, allowing him room to pass as Rufus led the way toward the camouflaged entrance-an aged wooden hatch built into the thicker trunk of the tree, half-buried beneath old moss and creeping ivy.

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  Rufus pushed it open with a creak, and the earthy scent of wood and dry leaves wafted out. Kilarys gave a small grunt of approval and ducked inside, following the tight spiral staircase lit by only a few faint glowstones embedded in the wall.

  Inside, the treehouse felt far larger than it looked from the outside. The air was warm with the scent of pine resin and old parchment. There were woven rugs layered over the floor, a low table surrounded by mismatched cushions, and oil lamps casting trembling amber light over the walls. Along the far wall, old maps, hand-drawn family emblems, and bundles of scrolls were pinned and layered-each corner of the room heavy with the scent of memory and planning.

  Kilarys glanced around once, twice-silent but watchful. He didn't sit yet.

  - You two built this? he finally asked, his voice rough with disbelief.

  - Over the years, yes. We needed a place no one could find, not even our own family, Rufus replied, moving toward the table and pouring water into a clay cup.

  Rubius stepped closer, watching Kilarys's every movement-how his eyes scanned the scrolls, how his fingers brushed the edge of a dagger at his hip even as he stood still.

  - It's safe here, Rubius said. You have our word.

  - We'll see, Kilarys muttered, and finally-finally-lowered himself onto one of the cushions, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

  Under the dim light of the lanterns swaying gently from the wooden beams above, his features finally became clearer. Everything I'd ever read in the old history books about the Osawa bloodline was now standing in front of me, breathing, real.Sun-worn skin, dark brown eyes that held a guarded intensity, thick black hair tied loosely behind his neck, and a tall, muscular frame-built not for courts or feasts, but for war. He looked somewhere between thirty and forty, though the weight in his gaze made him seem older, hardened.

  He walked toward the chair where Rufus had sat moments before and took a seat with a quiet, deliberate grace, like a man used to owning any room he entered. His eyes scanned the dimly-lit space, noting every corner, every shadow, before finally settling on us.

  Rufus had stepped briefly outside to ensure no one had followed. When he returned, he glanced at me-still standing quietly near the entrance-then stepped forward and gave a subtle nod to Kilarys.Then, without a word, he reached for a folded blanket draped over a nearby crate and gently laid it over the back of Kilarys's chair. A silent gesture-not one of service, but of respect. Something unspoken passed between them.Kilarys didn't react at first. But for a moment, his posture eased. Just slightly.

  "I hope this place doesn't trouble you," Rufus said. "It's small, dark... not exactly royal standards."

  Kilarys replied dryly, still scanning the room:"I've been in worse."

  "My mother used to hate places like this," Rufus said, almost apologetically.

  A short silence passed. The room was still, the only sound the faint creaking of the old wood above us.

  Kilarys kept watching the walls, the shelves, the half-finished maps pinned with rusted nails, the quiet signs that this place had been used-but not by many.

  Then, his voice broke the quiet:"So... what's the little red prince's grand plan?"

  Rufus gave a short laugh, but his tone turned firm, colder than before:"Coup."

  Kilarys turned his head slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Ambitious," he said, with a smirk. "Such lofty dreams you have."

  "Big dreams," Rufus answered. "But they're grounded. They're real. And they're worth it."

  Kilarys leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs out."You're a dreamer. I can't blame you. If I had a royal father, a noble mother, a vault of gold under my feet, I might've tried to climb to the highest peak in all of Aragas too."

  Rufus's smile faded. His next words came slower, heavier:"We've talked about this before. You help me rise to the throne-and I'll help your family rise with me. The Osawas will no longer be forgotten relics in dusty scrolls.You'll be restored. Respected. Officially recognized."

  He paused, meeting Kilarys's eyes."It's not just in my interest. It's in yours. And your reward will come, as promised."