They landed beneath the eastern wall.
The Old Archer found a drainage channel.
One by one, they crawled inside.
The Prince hated every moment.
The tunnel stank.
Rats moved in darkness.
The Captain whispered, “Royal adventure.”
“Be quiet.”
“You wanted to come.”
“I regret everything.”
They emerged beneath the fortress kitchens.
The Captain subdued a guard.
The Prince watched the man struggle.
“Where is the prisoner?”
The guard spat.
The Captain pressed him against the wall.
“The Lion.”
The guard’s face changed.
Upper tower.
Three levels.
Six guards.
Iron door.
They climbed.
The first two guards fell silently.
The third shouted.
Then everything became chaos.
Swords rang.
Doors opened.
The Prince ran behind the Captain.
At the tower stair, a giant mercenary blocked the way.
The man swung a club.
The Captain ducked.
Stone cracked behind him.
The Prince fired from below.
The arrow struck the mercenary’s thigh armor but failed to penetrate.
The man laughed.
The Old Archer shouted, “Joint!”
The Prince nocked again.
Aimed at the gap behind the knee.
Released.
The mercenary collapsed.
The Captain shoved him aside.
They reached the iron door.
Locked.
The Prince held up the golden seal.
Nothing.
The Captain searched the dead guard.
No key.
Then a voice came through the door.
Weak.
Older.
But unmistakable.
“Break the hinge.”
The Prince froze.
Every sound disappeared.
He knew that voice.
Not from memory.
From dreams built around memory.
“Father?”
Silence.
Then a whisper.
“My son?”
The Prince struck the door with both hands.
“Father!”
The Captain drove a sword into the hinge gap.
The Old Archer joined.
Metal bent.
Another strike.
The door opened.
A man sat chained to the wall.
His hair and beard had gone mostly gray.
He was thin.
One eye was clouded.
Scars crossed his arms.
But beneath the left eye remained the scar the Prince remembered.
The King looked at the boy.
Neither moved.
The Prince had imagined this moment a thousand ways.
His father standing heroic.
His father embracing him.
His father returning unchanged.
Reality was smaller.
Harder.
The King could barely stand.
So the Prince crossed the room.
Kneeling, he wrapped his arms around him.
The King held him.
His hands shook.