Chapter 2. A New Name Forged by Tragedy: Traitor
Deep within a winter mountain, where not a single glimmer of light could be seen—
Arien sat inside a narrow cave, her knees drawn close and wrapped in a thin blanket. Lost in thought, she stared into the darkness.
Even now, whenever she recalled that day, her chest tightened as though everything had been her fault.
Born a noble princess, she had lived for twenty-five years without ever facing such a devastating trial.
When she fled the royal palace of Planus, driven by an instinctive sense of danger, she had believed the situation would soon settle—that misunderstandings would be cleared, and she would be able to return.
But the news she heard while on the run cast her into despair.
No longer a princess—
but a traitor who had assassinated the king.
That was the new name tragedy had given Arien.
‘I’m alone now… but I’m strong. I have to steel my heart.’
Gallie V, King of Planus, had turned the southern continent into a land of abundance and was beloved and respected by his people.
‘Father was not someone who would earn enough hatred to be stabbed in the middle of the night…’
And yet, he had been murdered right before her eyes.
It was impossible to believe.
“Go to the most powerful man on the northern continent… before the darkness consumes everything.”
Those had been his final words, spoken as he clutched her hand tightly while she held his blood-soaked body, trembling and weeping.
He had seemed as though he wanted to say more… but he had already departed to a place from which he would never return.
‘Before the darkness consumes everything… what did he mean?’
When Arien was young, Gallie V often read her storybooks, frequently using the terms “light” and “darkness.”
To help her understand, he would describe the forces of good as light, and the forces of evil as darkness.
‘And yet Father clearly spoke of “darkness”… meaning something evil.’
She could sense that something grave was unfolding.
And then there was the one he had mentioned—the most powerful man on the northern continent.
Combining what she already knew with the information she had gathered while fleeing, she narrowed it down to a few possible individuals.
After much deliberation, she chose one:
Kias von Demidhel, the Grand Duke and lord of Astin.
A man coveted by all, yet impossible to approach.
‘In terms of wealth and power, no one surpasses the Grand Duke of Demidhel!’
After a grueling journey of over three months, she had finally reached the northern continent.
This was Astin—the domain ruled by the man known as the Black Prince or the Black Eagle of the North.
Geographically, it belonged to the Kingdom of Krun in the northeastern part of the continent.
But Astin, once merely a territory of Krun, had grown so powerful that even the king of Krun could no longer interfere in its internal affairs.
A land that resembled a kingdom in its own right—Astin was, for all intents and purposes, an independent power.
True to his title, the Grand Duke Demidhel was a man whose inner thoughts no one could read. Alongside him stood the Black Storm Knights, Tararkion—a force so feared that no royal or noble dared make them enemies.
They were infamous for their mercilessness.
‘Why did Father tell me to go to such a man…?’
Though uneasy about Kias’s reputation, Arien had come this far to determine whether he was someone she could seek help from.
Even if he had known her father, asking him outright to clear her name would be far too dangerous.
‘If I want to enter Astin Castle without revealing my identity and meet him… I’ll need a convincing pretext.’
She was already prepared to stake her life on every decision she made.
Night was always the time when countless thoughts came to wound her.
But if she let herself dwell on them tonight, she might collapse under the strain.
At least for this one night, she wanted to escape the thoughts pressing down on her.
As if only just remembering, she reached into her worn, dirt-stained bag.
She intended to check the items she had hurriedly taken from the palace and those she had gathered during her journey.
A water flask with a little remaining water, two pieces of cheese, bundles of medicinal herbs for emergencies, thin southern-style clothes unsuited for the harsh northern winter, a lanidium sword crafted by Batoni—
And a small perfume bottle from Planus, which she didn’t even remember packing.
The royal family of Planus was distinguished by a unique trait:
Their scent.
Those of pure royal blood were born with their own distinct fragrance, which remained with them until death.
It was a subtle yet captivating scent—so exquisite that no perfumer on the continent could replicate it. It served as a mark of their royal lineage.
Of course, this fact was kept secret from the public.
Still, to avoid suspicion, Arien would sometimes fill an empty perfume bottle with water and pretend to apply it.
Lastly, from the deepest part of her bag, she took out a bow wrapped in cloth—
Shard.
A keepsake of her father, Gallie V.
Stored in a hidden compartment behind the king’s office bookshelf, Shard had been his most treasured possession.
He had often said that even if the palace were to burn down, any member of the royal family must take Shard above all else.
Yet, despite facing danger several times during her escape, Arien had never once used the bow.
Or rather—she didn’t understand why such an ordinary, worn bow had been preserved as a royal relic.
Its appearance and material were no different from a common bow. It was slightly smaller than usual, and she had never seen Gallie V use it in battle.
Still, as a royal, she had not forgotten to bring it.
And with the swordsmanship she had learned at the royal academy since childhood, she had managed to survive this far.
She would meet the Grand Duke of Demidhel—determine what kind of man he was—and decide whether to wield him as a sword… or use him as a shield.
‘I’ll uncover the truth behind Father’s murder, clear my name, and return as princess to restore the royal family of Planus!’
Arien tightened her grip on Shard.
At that moment—
The sound of approaching horse hooves echoed toward the cave.
She sprang to her feet and pressed herself tightly against the cold wall, holding her breath.
So much for resting tonight.
‘Please… just pass by. Please…’
The hoofbeats stopped.
Someone had come right up to the cave entrance.
“Step out immediately and state your identity. If you comply, your life will be spared!”
Bandits targeting merchants? Northern barbarians from beyond the border? Or the Black Storm Knights, Tararkion?
She couldn’t tell.
But none of them were reassuring possibilities.
Biting her lower lip, Arien desperately tried to think—but there was nothing she could do in such a confined cave against an unknown enemy.
‘I won’t get through this safely today…’
She quickly gathered her belongings, tied her loose silver hair tightly up, and pulled her hood low to conceal half her face.
After taking a deep breath, she stepped outside.
Around twenty figures sat atop massive warhorses, looking down at her.
‘Black horses… black armor… Tararkion?’
She had survived countless dangers to reach this place. As always, she would survive today as well.
And yet, even without looking up, the killing intent and suspicion radiating from them made her shoulders stiffen.
“I am a humble healer who travels the continent collecting and studying medicinal herbs. I lost my way while crossing the mountains and took shelter in the cave.”
She was on her way to find their lord—the Grand Duke of Demidhel.
But encountering them like this had not been part of her plan.
There was no guarantee they would help a stranger.
Revealing her identity recklessly was out of the question.
Yet, for some reason, the knights stirred at her words.
“A healer?”
“Lilvain, if she’s a healer, we should take her to the lord.”
A red-haired knight spoke quietly to the blond knight beside him.
Both were strikingly handsome, and though they spoke in low voices, Arien couldn’t make out their conversation.
‘Do they need a healer? Or is the Grand Duke injured?’
She wasn’t sure—but it seemed they had a need.
‘This is dangerous… but it could also be an opportunity.’
Perhaps this was her chance to meet him naturally.
At that moment, the blond knight—Lilvain—gave a slight nod.
The red-haired knight dismounted and approached her.
“I am Theo Hayden. We are knights of Tararkion. This mountain is dangerous, so you should come with us.”
“I have a destination. I can protect myself. I don’t require an escort.”
She deliberately showed reluctance, though she knew it likely wouldn’t work.
“It would be best if you came with us.”
Lilvain cut in coldly.
His tone was calm—but utterly devoid of warmth. It was not a suggestion, but a polite threat.
“Lilvain, there’s no need to be so forceful with a lady.”
Theo rebuked him lightly before kneeling to help Arien mount his horse.
But she ignored him and climbed up on her own.
She had no intention of accepting kindness from strangers.
Theo looked momentarily embarrassed but soon mounted behind her.
“You can rest assured. We’re not the kind of bad people you think we are.”
Sensing her wariness, he tried to reassure her.
“So they say. I’ve heard that’s a common line among villains.”
She replied coolly without turning back.
Theo let out a small chuckle, amused by her boldness even among such intimidating knights.
Perhaps he was already wondering whether she would show the same courage when she met his lord—Kias.
Clop. Clop. Clop.
As they rode through the thick darkness, Arien glanced at the knights surrounding her.
Their well-maintained black armor bore the emblem of an eagle. At their waists hung long swords—far too heavy and large for ordinary knights to wield.
They seemed specially modified.
After riding for some time—
“Wood goblins! Theo, take the lead—cover him!”
At the shout from the front, the knights instantly drew their swords.
Shing!
The sharp sound of steel cut through the cold, silent forest.
“Wood goblins! The vanguard, support Theo!”
