Johannes suddenly grinned at Leoford, showing his teeth. Before his younger brother, there was no man hailed as a hero of the battlefield.
“Bathion’s daughter knowing the Inacos common tongue is admirable, isn’t it?”
Leoford, unaware of Johannes’s thoughts, merely grimaced as if in disbelief.
“…Have you been on the battlefield so long that something’s gone wrong with you?”
“How dare a mere soldier say anything to his commander? Insolent brat….”
“I’m not a brat!”
Leoford, apparently thoroughly annoyed, stomped ahead of his brother with an angry stride.
Johannes laughed outright.
“Growing tall is all you’ve managed….”
Still, he liked that his brother was taller than his peers. After watching his retreating younger brother for a moment, Johannes belatedly began walking. Then, as if by reflex, he looked back. In the distance, he saw the fortress-like castle behind which the sun was rising.
Truly. I’ve been on the battlefield too long.
When he lowered his gaze, he saw the forest he had just been in.
To think I’d encounter a person there, much less Bathion’s daughter….
Naturally, his thoughts returned to the woman he had met in the forest moments ago.
A pale, soft, fragile woman whose slender form fit entirely within his hand. The thought of how she might crumble if he applied even a little pressure had left him strangely flustered. As he tried to shake off the unfamiliar sensation that still lingered, Johannes unconsciously clenched and released his fist.
Only then did he realize it was an instinctive sense of regret. However, Johannes wasn’t the type to let his lower body dictate his mind. He dismissed the incident as a fleeting excitement born out of not having held a woman in a long time.
…Weak to the point of shattering at a touch.
Above all, Johannes despised anything weak.
“Brother!”
Leoford’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“What are you doing? We’re late! Even if you’re fine, I’ll be in trouble if I’m late!”
Leoford’s booming voice finally got Johannes moving. Leoford, now a speck in the distance, had become so fast and nimble that even Johannes struggled to keep up with him. Many said that Leoford would one day surpass Johannes as a warrior of renown.
Of course, Johannes had no intention of remaining on the battlefield until then. Clearing his mind of thoughts about the woman, he resumed walking.
It had been eight years since he first set foot on the battlefield—a significant period.
At twenty-two, Johannes, who had survived the battlefield and become a man, was no longer the powerless boy king.
He was Johannes Tenen, King of Itium, the strongest nation of warriors, and the most powerful warrior among them. Many even regarded him as the incarnation of Kona, the god of war.
Yet for the past two months, Johannes had been refusing to set foot on the battlefield. It was precisely for that reason that he had let the Princess of Velarez go free.
***
“Where’s Johannes?”
“He’s not in the barracks.”
“What nonsense! That’s ridiculous!”
“Mind your tongue.”
“But it’s been two months since he last showed himself on the battlefield! And he hasn’t attended any of the commander meetings either!”
A heavy silence fell over the commander’s tent. After some time, a voice finally broke the stillness.
“The soldiers are uneasy. This is a serious problem.”
This was something everyone present agreed upon.
“…Rumors are spreading among the soldiers that Johannes is gathering an elite force to return to Itium, Henrik.”
At those words, all eyes turned to the man sitting at the far end of the long table—the supreme commander of the Inacos Allied Forces, Henrik Keller of Inodenia. He was a prince by royal blood and the king’s cherished brother.
With his striking orange-red hair, thick, arched eyebrows, and a square, sturdy jaw, Henrik had an unmistakably stubborn look. His large, muscular build hinted that he had been robust from birth, and he exuded an air of authority. Despite being over forty, he did not appear to be a veteran past his prime.
True to his appearance, Henrik remained silent despite the demanding gazes. Meanwhile, the increasingly impatient commanders began to chime in one by one.
“What happened to persuading Johannes?”
“There’s no victory without Johannes.”
Johannes, Johannes.
As if no one knew that.
“If convincing Johannes is no longer an option, perhaps we should consider ending the war here….”
Bang.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
Henrik erupted, slamming the table as if he couldn’t contain his fury. His fierce reaction caused the commanders to exchange uneasy glances, but the tension was short-lived.
“Still, Henrik. Wasn’t this war not supposed to drag on this long? Ten years wasn’t part of the plan.”
Indeed, it wasn’t. All five commanders, except Henrik and the absent Johannes, nodded in agreement. One even sneered as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“Who could’ve guessed that the lofty King of Velarez would stoop to pimping out his own daughters?”
“Yes, claiming to be descendants of Enna—what nonsense. They must be descendants of demons!”
For a moment, crass jokes about Velarez flew around the table. Then one commander cautiously brought up the main topic while eyeing Henrik.
“Let’s negotiate with Bathion.”
“Negotiate? Have you no pride?”
“We’ve already gained countless spoils of war—treasures, relics, grain, slaves. We’ve shown them the might of the Novas continent. Surely, this is enough.”
“We’re on the verge of conquest…!”
“Conquest brings its own problems. We may conquer this land, but we don’t have the power to control it.”
The Inacos Allied Forces had crossed the seas. Though they had maintained superiority, the unexpectedly prolonged war had left even them exhausted.
Continuing the war further would only lead to losses. Henrik knew this, but his pride wouldn’t let him relent.
Henrik had rallied the Allied Forces with the banner of defending the honor of the Inacos—and the Novas continent. But that was merely a pretense. What he truly desired was the territory of Velarez.
The wealth of the Thessalia royal family stemmed from their land. Velarez was not only fertile but also contained an enormous amount of iron deposits.
Henrik coveted this immensely.
“We must end this war now.”
But with the war dragging on, the mood among the Allied Forces was growing restless. If Johannes were to return, the cracks in the army would widen as many began to pull back. Henrik stubbornly clamped his mouth shut.
“Henrik! This is pure greed!”
“Iron! There’s iron there! If we push just a little further, all of it will fall into our hands!”
“Our hands? You mean your hands!”
“What did you say?”
Voices rose, tempers flared, and soon fists slammed against the table as they shot up from their seats.
A chaotic flurry of languages overlapped in a storm of arguments.
The commotion was halted by the clear sound of a bell. In an instant, everyone froze.
“What a disgrace this is, every single time.”
One of the commanders, holding the bell placed in the center of the table, wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Instead of squabbling amongst ourselves, we should seek Kona’s guidance.”
The Inacos Allied Forces were made up of warriors from seven nations. Though they shared a common goal in invading the Wesel continent, they often clashed in opinions. In such times, they frequently turned to divine guidance.
Henrik scowled but ultimately yielded to the majority.
When Kona finally delivered the divine message, some complained about its ambiguity. Henrik, however, clenched his fists, a shiver running through him.
“Kona has clearly spoken of our victory—of complete conquest.”
Divine guidance was absolute yet open to human interpretation. Henrik smiled greedily and issued his order to his adjutant.
“Summon Commander Johannes to my tent.”
Yes, the war must not end like this. For that, Johannes would be necessary once again.
***
[It would be best to braid your hair up high today.]
[Ah….]
At the maid Leah’s words, Daphne hesitated. Leah blinked a few times, as if to ask what was wrong.
[Prince Jeffrey prefers it that way, doesn’t he?]
Ah, Jeffrey. Daphne faintly smiled.
[…Then, please do so.]
Even with Daphne’s somewhat delayed response, Leah didn’t sense anything unusual. She believed that the princess she served was a bit lacking in awareness.
[And your dress today, would you like to wear the green one embroidered with gold thread?]
[If that’s what you think is best.]
[Yes, Princess. It suits you best!]
Leah’s enthusiasm carried on as she prepared Daphne’s attire, paying special attention to every detail. Daphne, however, sat motionless, gazing absently into the mirror.
Jeffrey’s name had struck her.
Her mind wandered back to the moment she first heard the whispers, hushed but pervasive, that reached her ears. A rumor, persistent and cruel, that she could neither ignore nor openly acknowledge.
The maid gently touched Daphne’s hair, her skilled hands working as if in a delicate dance. The pain from the tugging roots was faint, but it was enough to bring Daphne back to her senses.
She asked quietly, [Do you think… Prince Jeffrey will be coming today?]
The maid, caught off guard by the unexpected question, faltered briefly before smiling brightly. [I am certain of it, Princess. He always does, doesn’t he?]
Daphne let out a soft, ambiguous sound in response, her lips curling faintly as she closed her eyes.
She thought to herself, Yes, he always does.
But something gnawed at her heart—something she could not name.
Leah, unaware of the storm brewing inside her mistress, continued her task diligently. To her, Daphne was simply a quiet and obedient figure, too gentle for her own good.
