Elegance Never Goes Out of Style

Greystone Post was located about thirty kilometers southwest of Silver Sand Lake, in a barren area that had not yet completely turned into desert.

The entire area was situated in a natural depression. The rising rocky ridges on both sides arched around Greystone Post, cradling it. There was only a narrow passage for entry and exit facing Silver Sand Lake, making it overall easy to defend and hard to attack.

A waterway named the Dry River wound past the edge of the depression. Though called a river, it was barely three to five paces wide, with shallow, thin water and an exposed riverbed. During every dry season, it would dry up completely.

Therefore, the residents of Greystone Post mainly relied on well water dug up within the camp to survive. However, the well water was bitter and salty, barely allowing people to scrape by.

The camp's perimeter wall was constructed from a mixture of rammed earth and thick timber, about two men high. Sharpened wooden stakes were planted along the top of the wall, and the gate was made of thick oak planks.

The entire camp was not large, measuring about a hundred paces from east to west and sixty paces from north to south. A dozen or so adobe houses and a few tattered tents were scattered across the uneven ground.

The residents here were a mixed bunch, including criminals exiled by the Empire, down-on-their-luck adventurers with nowhere else to go, and some desert natives. Most of them both feared and respected Rhine, the ruler of the camp, though there were plenty who feigned compliance while plotting in the shadows. But as long as they didn't cause major trouble, Rhine didn't bother with them.

In the southwest corner of the camp was a separate, walled-in courtyard. It was extremely clean—so clean that not a single stray grain of sand could be found.

Deep within the courtyard stood a small cabin built of wood and stone. Hanging by the door was a faded bronze shield—an old relic Rhine had brought with him from the Empire. Even though his noble title and surname had been stripped away, he had kept this shield with him ever since.

Now, as dusk drew to a close, Isha Val was tied to a wooden chair in the corner of a secluded room within the courtyard.

The rope was high-quality hemp, wound tightly but not roughly. Thus, Isha was able to maintain an upright, seated posture, her back straight, her gaze resting calmly on an oil lamp sitting on the table before her.

Although it was just an ordinary animal fat lamp, some kind of incense seemed to have been mixed in, giving off a faint, herbal scent as it burned.

The master of this place was quite particular, which felt completely out of place in this dilapidated camp.

Isha thought to herself. She appeared calm on the surface, but her heart was in absolute turmoil.

When she was captured, she had heard the words Rhine spoke to Lena. Those words would surely reach Her Highness's ears through Lena.

But would she really come to save her? She was just a minor merchant, and she had only known Her Highness for a short time.

Even if Her Highness called her a “friend,” that was likely more out of self-interest and polite flattery.

If she were in Her Highness's position, would she risk storming an enemy camp for a merchant she had only recently met?

The answer was obvious.

Isha lowered her eyes and pursed her dry lips. Just as she was about to convince herself to give up, a pale, slender figure suddenly flashed in her mind.

But she quickly shook her head vigorously, banishing that expressionless face from her thoughts.

Right then, the door was pushed open.

Isha's heart tightened, but she forced herself to remain calm, raising her eyes to look at the newcomer.

Rhine's footsteps were very light as he entered the room. He looked younger than his actual age, appearing to be around thirty-five or thirty-six. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back meticulously, his facial features sharp, his lips well-defined, and there was a faint, old scar on his jaw.

He wore silver-embroidered leather armor that was kept in pristine condition. The worn spots on the leather had been carefully oiled, and the brass buckles on it were polished to a mirror shine.

Hanging at his waist was a slender, one-handed sword. The scabbard was wrapped in dark leather, and the cord around the hilt was equally clean and tidy, without a single loose thread.

He stopped about three paces away from Isha, his hands hanging naturally at his sides in an elegant posture.

“Miss Val.”

Rhine's voice was steady, his pace neither fast nor slow. “You haven't had a single drop of water since you were brought here. Would you like something to drink?”

“The well water is rather salty, but I still have a few bottles of fruit wine I traded from merchants, if you don't mind.”

Isha did not answer. She raised her eyes, staring coldly at the man before her.

Unfazed by her stare, Rhine smiled slightly. “You are much calmer than I expected. For someone of your age to remain so composed after being kidnapped by a stranger and brought to an unfamiliar place is, frankly, quite rare.”

“Her Highness won't come to save me. Stop dreaming,” Isha suddenly spoke, whether to defy him or to convince herself. “I am just a merchant. My value to Her Highness is limited.”

“You are mistaken.”

Rhine remained unbothered, maintaining his composed demeanor. “I met Her Highness once. Though it was brief, she left a deep impression on me. The charisma she possesses is something I have not forgotten to this day.”

“Furthermore, through my brief observations, I have found that Her Highness cares deeply for her people—not just her subordinates, but also her... friends.”

At the word “friends,” a subtle change flickered across Isha's face. Though it was minute and quickly concealed, Rhine's sharp eyes caught it nonetheless.

The smile on Rhine's face widened as he looked down and continued, “I assume your maid has already delivered the message to Her Highness. It won't be long before I see her here.”

Isha pursed her lips tightly, her chest rising and falling slightly faster. She knew he had noticed her brief slip of expression, but she still refused to admit it. “Your judgment is wrong. Her Highness will absolutely not come.”

“Perhaps.”

But to Isha's surprise, Rhine actually nodded in agreement, his tone turning serious. “Now that I think about it, you do make some sense.”

“After all, Her Highness's situation is not what it used to be. From a rational standpoint, risking herself for a mere merchant is indeed a bad deal.”

As he spoke, he rested his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

“So, I believe it would be better to add a little insurance.”

“If something with a distinct physical characteristic of yours were sent to Her Highness, it would surely speed up her decision-making process.”

Isha's face turned quite pale. She knew exactly what he meant.

Inch by inch, Rhine drew his longsword from its scabbard. The smooth blade reflected the dim, yellow light of the oil lamp, its sharp edge glinting with a cold light.

Rhine took a step forward, his once-gentle gaze turning cold.

Isha clenched her teeth, unable to stop her eyes from welling up.

Yet she did not back down. She kept her spine straight, lifting her head to glare defiantly at Rhine.

She would not cry. Even if he were to cut off one of her fingers or an arm, she would not show weakness before this man.

The flash of the blade swept past her eyes. Isha closed them instinctively, feeling something flutter past her face, but there was no pain.

She opened her eyes, trembling, and saw a lock of severed hair gently drifting down through the air.

Rhine sheathed his sword, caught the falling hair in his palm, and pulled a clean white handkerchief from his coat, carefully wrapping it inside.

“Do not worry, I only wanted a lock of your hair.”

Rhine's tone became gentle once more, as if drawing his sword just now had been nothing but a joke.

Looking at Isha's slightly watery eyes, the smile on his face faded slightly. “Although I must use this method to draw Her Highness here, I am not a senseless killer. If possible, I do not wish to harm her either. It is just that... there are some things I must do.”

His gaze swept across Isha's face, an inexplicable emotion flashing deep in his eyes, before he turned and walked out of the room with steady steps.

The lock clicked softly, and the door was shut tight once more.

Inside the courtyard, Rhine waved his hand. A subordinate in grey clothes who had been waiting in the corner immediately hurried over. “Commander, your orders?”

Rhine handed him the handkerchief and instructed, “Pack it well and have someone deliver it to the Imperial Princess tomorrow morning. Remember, hand it directly to Her Highness. Do not let any of the trash in this camp touch it.”

The subordinate took the handkerchief with great care, bowed, and withdrew.

Rhine stood where he was, looking up at the sky. The last rays of sunlight had already sunk beneath the western rocky ridge, and a few stars were beginning to peek out along the horizon.

He sighed softly. Just as he was about to turn around, a pale blue shadow silently glided across the sky.

Rhine glanced at it instinctively. It was a blue owl. Paying it no mind, he prepared to turn and leave.

But in the next second, he whipped his head back toward the sky, searching for the owl phantom, filled with sudden horror. How could there be an owl phantom in a dump like this? It's a druid's sentinel!

Rhine's expression darkened instantly. He strode out of the courtyard gate and barked a sharp command:

“Everyone, assemble!”