Chapter 3
The Crown Prince had not appeared at the agreed-upon location even as the appointed time passed. While Karl searched the warehouse thoroughly, uncovering desiccated jerky and water canisters, Edith huddled on a chair draped with a white cloth.
She wanted to help in some way, but Karl persuaded her to conserve her strength.
“I’ll take a look around,” he said.
Karl placed the faded clothing and shoes he had found in a drawer at Edith’s feet. He hesitated to tell her to change, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Edith picked up the garments herself.
“When you’re ready, knock on the door three times.”
With that, Karl took his share of the clothing and stepped outside. Edith unfolded the tunic, which was larger than her own body, feeling the stiff, coarse texture of the fabric.
For the first time, she realized how sheltered her life had been. Why had she taken everything she had for granted?
“Regret only after losing it… I really am shameless.”
Blushing, Edith roughly pulled off her soiled chemise.
Karl returned with a brief signal. Against the dull clothing, Edith’s hair seemed to shine even more.
“You’ll need to tie the knots tighter if we’re going to walk far,” Karl said, adjusting her outfit. He loosened her shoelaces to slip the gloves she had removed inside, adjusted the fit, and folded down the long sleeves so they covered her hands completely.
As Edith parted her lips to thank him, Karl urgently raised a finger.
“Shh.”
The sound of footsteps crunching the grass grew closer. Karl gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, and Edith instinctively held her breath.
“Commander!”
“Lucas?!”
Karl recognized the voice from outside and carefully opened the door.
Two figures clad in black robes burst into the room. Inyoung, of similar stature to Edith, lifted her robe to reveal silver hair streaked with blood and dust.
It was Prince Ian, the Crown Prince of the Empire, with hair and eyes the same color as Edith’s.
“Brother!”
A breath Edith had been holding escaped from her tightly closed lips. She ran forward, restraining her urge to sob as she embraced the Crown Prince.
“It’s a relief to see Your Highness safe,” she whispered.
“Lucas went through some trouble,” Ian replied.
Despite Ian’s otherwise flawless face, several scratches marked his skin, and the cloth draped over his shoulder was soaked with blood.
“What happened…”
“They just pulled out the arrows. If we’d heated the sword before using it, the bleeding wouldn’t have been this bad. We had to act fast. It’s fine now.”
It was upsetting to hear so calmly that flesh had been torn just to remove deeply embedded arrows.
“What’s the situation, Lucas?” Karl asked, still cautious. Lucas’s light brown hair, stuck with sweat and dust, framed his vigilant brown eyes as they scanned the surroundings.
“We have pursuers. We must leave immediately.”
“Has Rishard noticed already?”
“Not certain. But an unknown army has stationed itself in the eastern Tourne Forest.”
Ian recalled in response to Edith’s question.
“They wore Imperial uniforms, but I don’t think they were Imperial troops. Far too many to be Rishard’s mercenaries, and their speech carried a northern accent.”
“If the troops moved, the border guards would have noticed. Yet no reports have come in these past months…”
Karl ran a hand over his face, deep in thought.
“Could they have drawn in northern forces? Moving that many soldiers so quietly is unusual.”
“I think it’s possible,” Edith said cautiously.
“Why do you think that, Edith?”
“I spoke once with Lady Alicia of Scarve. She believed that if Rishard got engaged, the North would benefit more.”
“That makes sense. Not just Scarve, other regions are suspicious too. Sending so many troops would surely strain border defenses…” Ian trailed off, but everyone shared the same worry: a war could erupt amid the chaos of internal unrest. A scenario none wanted to imagine.
“Once our destination is set, we’ll need to investigate further.”
Tension hung thick in the warehouse. Edith had many questions but couldn’t bring herself to ask. Ian tried to lighten the mood.
“At least we gained something. Though we were tracked, we managed to secure the horses. Otherwise, catching up to you would have been difficult.”
As Ian adjusted his robe, Karl quickly positioned himself beside Edith. It was time to continue the long journey.
The sky, once pitch black, gradually brightened. Smoke still rose above the Imperial Palace in the distance.
It was a scene Edith had never imagined. She clenched her fists to hold back tears. The family she loved, her secure home—none of it remained.
The palace, which she had never left before, now seemed impossibly distant.
Determined to leave the past behind, Edith mounted a horse without hesitation. Her anger at wanting to cut Rishard down had to wait; survival came first.
Even as the palace shrank beyond the ridgeline, she glanced back several times.
Thanks to the horses, travel was somewhat easier, yet the journey was still grueling for Edith. Sitting bareback on a horse was uncomfortable, and the feeling in her thighs had long since dulled to pain.
She struggled to mask her discomfort, keeping her back straight and stifling the occasional groan. She refused to be a burden, not when everyone was enduring the same hardship.
Initially, the group had talked occasionally, but as the sun set, words grew scarce. Silence settled, and fatigue mounted. Edith realized, for the first time, how much energy it took even to speak.
As she grew accustomed to the quiet, the western sky burned red at dusk. Ian stopped his horse.
“We should prepare camp. Let’s find a suitable spot here.”
Everyone was exhausted; moving recklessly in the dark could be dangerous.
They made camp on a flat, open space before night fully fell.
“No fires tonight. We can’t leave traces. We can’t afford a moment of carelessness.”
Ian glanced at Edith, asking if she could endure it.
“Don’t worry. I’m not so weak as to complain at a time like this.”
“Good. I’d like to leave it to you two, but given the circumstances, we’ll take shifts—Karl, Lucas, then me.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you rested more, Your Highness?”
Despite their concern, Ian smiled and patted their shoulders.
“Don’t make me look like a heartless Crown Prince.”
Even in hardship, his composure commanded respect. No wonder the knights genuinely followed him.
If it weren’t for Ian’s reliable presence, Edith might have given up entirely.
“Has the missive sent to Baron Bart returned?”
“It should have returned by now… though we don’t know if anything happened along the way.”
“Nothing we can do. If we don’t get a reply by tomorrow, we should first assess the Allied Nations’ movements.”
“You mean the Pallereon Alliance?”
“Right. If they remain loyal as allies, they’ll assist our exile.”
Exile. The thought darkened Edith’s face. Even if the Alliance granted it, whether they could return to their original positions or simply live comfortably abroad remained uncertain.
There was no time for reflection. Any glimmer of hope had to be seized.
“Even if Rishard takes the throne, would the Alliance dare oppose the Empire? If even one of Pallun, Reneto, or Calion betrays us, the alliance will break.”
“True. But Calion has a competent heir—ambitious and capable.”
“Who?”
“Terdian Calion. Heir of the Pallereon Alliance leader.”
Ian’s characteristic bright smile appeared.
“I’ve never met him in person, but I know him through letters.”
The rising star of the Pallereon Alliance. Edith had heard the name. Terdian had helped Calion surpass Pallun and Reneto to lead the Alliance. Some even claimed that if he had been born outside his small kingdom, the continent’s balance of power could have shifted drastically.
“You’ll like him too,” Ian said.
A breeze stirred Ian’s hair. Edith felt a sudden certainty that she would long for this moment one day. Her chest felt heavy, but the brief chirps of birds drew her attention back.
Karl sprang up, raising a small mirror to reflect the last rays of the sun. A black pigeon swooped swiftly between them.
“It’s back,” Karl said, quickly capturing the bird. But there was no news.
“Nothing,” he muttered. Even examining the feathers yielded no message. Irritated, the pigeon pecked at Karl’s hand.
“There may have been a mistake en route. My apologies.”
“No. The fact the courier returned means it was received. Neither a positive nor negative response… we can’t judge until we meet the Baron.”
Ian’s words dissipated in the night wind. Edith gazed at the dark sky, her mind heavy.
A thin wisp of smoke cut through the darkness. A large shadow flapped its wings overhead, shaking the branches with an eerie rustle.
Breeeeeep!
A hawk descended gracefully onto the man’s arm. A relatively small messenger hawk.
The man produced a small piece of jerky. The hawk rubbed its beak against his long fingers and ate contentedly. Untying a pouch tied to its leg revealed a long leather cord inscribed with mysterious letters.
“Here, Your Highness.”
The man wrapped the cord around the arrow he received. The letters formed a single word:
“Success.”
That word was enough. The man tossed the cord into the fire; the flames blazed, and the ash scattered in the wind.
“How far remains?”
“Just across the river; we’ll arrive within three days.”
His eyes, the color of the deep night sky, looked toward the horizon.
“We’ll meet soon.”
