ROLFE: Heir to the ancient throne

Episode 8

Rolfe, Elisa, and Jarvis had been on the road for three days without a proper break. They followed the rough path northward, passing by scattered stone piles and fallen watchtowers that once represented Rockwyn’s strength. They were entering the borderlands between Rockwyn and Corville.

Jarvis limped along, his arm still wrapped from the injuries he sustained during their escape. Elisa stayed close to him, her face pale but filled with determination. Rolfe led the way, his eyes scanning the horizon each step driven by memories of Mira's words and Jeras’ fury. 

When they reached the ridge that overlooked the valley at the border, Rolfe halted. Below them lay a wide stretch of gray grass and stone. In the distance, rising through the fog like a sharp tooth, they could see the first watchfire of the Corville clan. 

Elisa let out a sharp breath. “We made it.” 

“Not yet,” Rolfe replied. “Borders mean watchers.” 

He was correct. 

Suddenly, they heard hooves pounding behind them, cutting through the wind. 

Jarvis turned around, fear evident in his voice. “They’re coming after us again.” 

Dark shapes appeared between the trees; Rockwyn riders with rain-soaked cloaks and coldly shining spears. The emblem on their shields displayed Jeras’ new symbol: a wolf’s head split by an iron crown. 

“Run!” Rolfe yelled. 

They sprinted down the slope toward the open field. The riders shouted as they urged their horses forward, mud flying from their hooves. 

Elisa gasped for air in quick bursts. “We can’t outrun them!” 

Rolfe stayed silent as he kept running, his boots sinking into the wet grass until a sharp whistle pierced the air ahead. 

A moment later, an arrow landed in front of him, it had black feathers and crimson symbols on it. 

“Get down!” Jarvis shouted. 

They ducked just as another wave of arrows flew from the mist ahead, this time not from Rockwyn. The arrows hit the riders behind them, knocking both men and horses off balance. 

Voices shouted from the fog. “Corville! Corville! You trespass on our land, dogs of Rockwyn!” 

From across the valley, figures appeared: warriors dressed in dark-blue armor, with shields painted to show the twin falcons of the Corville clan. 

The battle that followed was quick and fierce. 

Rockwyn’s riders attempted to regroup, but the Corville fighters advanced like a tidal wave. Spears struck flesh. The sound of metal clashing filled the air. Horses screamed as they fell. 

Rolfe quickly pulled Elisa and Jarvis behind a boulder while chaos erupted around them. 

“What’s going on?” Elisa panted. 

“They believe Jeras has started a war,” Rolfe replied grimly. “And maybe he really has.” 

By the time the sun broke through the clouds, silence fell over the valley except for the groans of those who were injured. Smoke rose from the flattened grass. 

The Corville commander, a large man with half of his face burned, got off his horse near the prisoners. His eyes landed on the three figures huddled next to the boulder. 

“Survivors,” he mumbled. “They don’t look like Rockwyn.” 

Rolfe stood up slowly, raising his hands. “We mean no harm. We were running away ” 

The man's spear pointed directly at Rolfe's chest. “Everyone is running from something. You’ll share your story with the chief.” 

They were tied up and led across the plain. Jarvis limped beside Rolfe, whispering, “If they think we’re spies, they’ll hang us.” 

Rolfe’s face remained serious. “Then we’ll convince them of the truth before that happens.” 

Elisa said nothing and stared into the distance, looking toward Rockwyn. 

***

Arriving into Corville, the settlement loomed like a fortress built into the earth. Stone walls surrounded rows of longhouses with frosty roofs. Watchtowers stood beside the gate, where banners hung still in the air; deep blue marked with silver. 

As they walked in, warriors stopped to look at them. And whispers followed. 

“Rockwyn prisoners.” 

“Jeras’ blood will spill again soon.” 

“Who’s that girl?” 

Elisa kept her head down, trying to conceal her identity which was hard to conceal. 

They arrived at the central square, where a raised platform overlooked the yard. A tall, thin man dressed in dark robes stood on it, his hair was streaked white and his eyes looked like coals that had lost their fire. 

The commander bowed. “We have three captives, my lord. We found them near the ridge. Rockwyn’s men followed them across the border.” 

The man in robes scanned the prisoners. “Bring them closer.” 

As they complied, murmurs spread through the crowd. Someone recognized the robed figure. 

"Master Krynt."

His name held significance. Mage. Mercenary. Warlock of countless battles. Some claimed he had once served kings, while others insisted he had burned one alive for breaking a deal. No one really knew what clan he heil from, all they knew was that he fought for whoever struck a bargain with him first.

Krynt observed them silently before offering a slight smile. “You've traveled quite a distance, haven’t you, boy?” 

Rolfe frowned in response. “Do you know me?” 

“Not yet,” Krynt replied softly. “But I will.” 

He turned to the commander and said, “You can have the injured one, the boy with the limp. The others will stay with me.” 

The commander appeared uneasy. “With all due respect, Mage Krynt, the chief instructed…” 

Krynt's voice grew stern. “You forget your rank, soldier. I advise the chief, and I will take what is mine.” 

The commander hesitated and looked at his men. “The Rockwyn boy is wanted by Jeras. And the girl ” 

“She is Jeras' daughter,” Krynt interjected with a smirk. “Yes, I’m aware of that. But inform your chief that I prevented war at his walls. He can afford to lose two prisoners.” 

The men exchanged cautious looks before the commander finally nodded. “We’ll have the injured one; the others will stay under your care.” 

Jarvis' eyes grew wide. “No hold on! I can’t go without them!” 

Krynt's expression softened just a bit. “You have to leave. Do it now, before I change my mind and have you killed right here.” 

Two guards untied Jarvis, separating him from Rolfe and Elisa, and pushed him toward the gate. 

Elisa stepped forward. “You can't take him!” 

Krynt raised his hand slightly, not as a threat, but to command. “He’ll survive. You might not, unless you come with me quietly.” 

Rolfe positioned himself between them with determination. “Why should I? You don’t even know who I am.” 

Krynt’s eyes shone like wet metal, revealing his mage side to Rolfe. “That’s where you’re mistaken, boy. I know exactly who you are and if you stay here, Corville will find out too, and they’ll kill you before Jeras gets the chance.” 

Rolfe paused. He sensed something in Krynt’s gaze, a heaviness, like an unseen truth pressing down on him. 

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “But if you hurt her ” 

Krynt laughed lightly. “You’re not in a place to make threats, boy. Let’s go.” 

As they were taken away by Krynt, Elisa looked back one last time as Jarvis stood at the gates, surrounded by soldiers, his face pale and filled with guilt. 

Rolfe locked eyes with Jarvis' and for a moment, they shared a silent promise: This isn’t over. 

That night, in a hidden room beneath the citadel, where Krynt had brought them to, he sent away his guards and sat down with Rolfe and Elisa. 

“You’ve gotten into deeper trouble than you realize,” he said. “Jeras may be a fool, but even fools can sense danger when it gets too close to their power.” 

Rolfe looked back at him. “What danger?” 

“The kind that doesn’t come from men,” Krynt replied. “You have something in your blood, boy. Something ancient. Something that whispers while the world is asleep.” 

Elisa frowned. “You talk in puzzles.” 

Krynt gave a thin smile. “So did those who created him.” 

He leaned closer, his eyes fixed on Rolfe’s. “Tell me when you fought the warrior, Kol, what did you feel?” 

Rolfe’s heart raced; he didn't know words of his fight with Kol had spread this far, but whatever, Krynt was a mage so he must have seen in a vision or so. “Heat. Anger. And something else… something I couldn’t control.” 

“Good,” Krynt said softly. “You’re starting to remember.” 

Elisa glanced between them, feeling uneasy in her chest. “Remember what?” 

Krynt’s response c

ame like a quiet prophecy. 

“What he was before Rockwyn ever found him.”