21Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFA8YL76I0eCHAPTER 5
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– I WAS LOST–
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Metro and Kathryn pull up to the Lodge’s entrance. The streets are quiet this morning, only a few early risers drifting by. The red horse slows to a halt. Kathryn flicks her hair—right into Metro’s face. His eyes are wide, cringing as he slides off the saddle.
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He looks up at her. She’s smirking down at him, confident, amused.
Metro plants his hands on his hips and smiles back.
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Kathryn keeps her grip on the reins, still staring at him like he’s a snack she’s debating on stealing.
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Kathryn:
You enjoy yourself back there?
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Metro’s face flushes red. His hands drift to the top of his head, a weak smile forming.
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Metro:
Thanks for the ride Kathryn,
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… I think things are going to work out.
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Her expression shifts—serious, fierce, almost commanding.
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Kathryn:
I’m sure they will.
Well… don’t be rude.
Kiss my hand goodbye.
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Metro glances around like someone might catch him.
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Metro:
Ugh…
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He grabs her hand and presses a quick, akward kiss to her knuckles.
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Kathryn leans forward mounted, laughing silently to herself.
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Metro blinks, confused.
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Then she straightens—back arched, red hair and green dress flowing in the morning breeze. Her expression softens, glowing. Her eyes almost like water, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.
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Kathryn (low, seductive):
I’ll be seeing you soon, Metro.
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She squints at him, kisses the air, then lets the expression melt back into her confident smirk.
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Metro looks devastated.
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She laughs—full, warm, unrestrained—and kicks her horse into motion, riding off.
Metro watches Kathryn disappear down the road, her laughter still echoing faintly. His heart is pounding for reasons he refuses to examine. He shakes it off and bolts toward the Lodge.
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The heavy oak doors slam behind him as he enters. The interior is dim compared to the morning light outside—lanterns flicker along the walls, casting long shadows across the stone floor. A few workers glance up, startled, as Metro rushes past.
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His boots thud against the steps as he takes them two at a time. The Lodge staircase spirals upward, narrow and steep, lined with old portraits and crimson banners. Metro barely notices them. His breath is sharp, his backpack bouncing against his shoulder.
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He nearly colliding with a servant carrying a tray of steaming tea coming from a doorway.
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“Excuse me—!” Metro blurts, already past.
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The air grows warmer, heavier. The closer he gets to Theron’s office chamber, the more the Lodge seems to quiet around him, as if the building itself knows whos meeting at the top.
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Metro reaches the final hallway—long, carpeted in deep red. The black stone walls absorb the light, giving the corridor a solemn, almost ceremonial weight. He slows, catching his breath, adjusting his backpack strap.
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At the end of the hall stands the door to Theron’s office chamber: dark oak, reinforced with iron bands, the gold-etched crest gleaming faintly.
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Metro pushes it open quickly.
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The chamber is exactly as he remembers—gloomy black stone, oakwood beams overhead, red banners with gold inscriptions hanging like silent judges. A single lantern burns on the desk, its glow barely reaching the corners of the room.
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Theron stands.
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He’s not seated behind his desk. He’s not resting. He’s standing in the center of the room as if he’s been waiting for Metro specifically, posture rigid, eyes sharp.
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Theron:
Metro.
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Metro steps forward, gripping his backpack straps, breath still uneven. Relief washes over him, but exhaustion clings to his shoulders.
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He nods once, steadying himself.
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He’s here.
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Metro:
“Listen very carefully. My brothers are imprisoned in the Great City’s Hall… and I am going to deliver them.”
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Theron studies him, eyes narrowing with a strange mix of awe and calculation.
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Theron:
“I know that in the strength of the Lord, you can do all things.”
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A beat.
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Theron steps closer, voice lowering.
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Theron:
Who told you your brothers were imprisoned?
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Metro:
"No one has told me, but God."
Theron doesn't question it.
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Theron:
“Listen, Metro. I will go with you to the Great City. The King is my father — Felix. I will accompany you on this journey, so that I may flatter him… and persuade him to cast your brothers out of prison.”
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A beat.
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Theron snaps his fingers sharply.
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Servants rush in, preparing everything needed for their journey, within minutes the soldiers yoke horses and chariots outside. They step into the courtyard to find infantry men assembling around the golden carriages, armor gleaming in the morning light.
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Theron:
“Let us go down to the Great Hall now. I will plead with Felix. This will work… I know it.”
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