Previously
Sid discovers that the veiled woman has slipped away from the encampment and immediately unleashes a manhunt with hounds across the winter plains. Guided by her geographical memories, Iris races through the grassland and takes a stand atop a fragile frozen river.
A King Is Born upon the Road.
Even with the moon and torches, the night was still night, and it was impossible to see just how far she had been swept down the current.
“…The water is too cold. No one could fall in there and survive.”
Ignoring the escort knight’s warning, Sid Repos ordered the soldiers to plunge into the river. The hound that had retreated from the ice was slaughtered on the spot.
The soldiers, hailing from the comparatively warm capital, suffered severe frostbite, and one even perished, but Iris was nowhere to be found.
As Sid gulped down liquor to quell his rising fury, an escort knight came rushing toward him, face bright with excitement.
“Your Highness! A full moon! The full moon has risen!”
At those words, Sid slammed down his goblet and rushed out of the tent.
It was just as the knight had said. As the clouds veiling the moon drifted away, a massive, brilliant full moon cast its light across the world.
The knight commander spoke.
“It seems… Lady Iris has truly met her end.”
“…”
A full moon signaled the emergence of one destined to become king. Sid understood that the knight commander was implying his rival had been eliminated.
He felt his rage rapidly subside, convinced that the moon tonight was delivering a divine revelation: he would be king.
Even so, the sharp instinct inherent to the Repos bloodline kept him from fully believing that Iris was dead.
* * *
South of Luwan lay the mountainous region of Kawat, and past those peaks, the southern border met the forbidden land where no mortal was permitted to tread.
On that boundary, Heyer Asheri fought alongside his Tehas Knights, locked in battles fierce enough to make a man forget whose surname he carried—even who he was.
Bizarre beings that could only be called monsters, native to the forbidden land, were now breaching the border and swarming into the Kawat forest.
The people of Kawat, who never considered themselves citizens of Luwan, had at first regarded the aristocratic Tehas Knights with deep suspicion, but they had come to accept that only these knights could save them.
Throughout their year-long stay in Kawat, every member of the Tehas Knights was drenched in blood, as though caught beneath a crimson deluge.
Returning to the scattered village of the Kawat people, the knights gathered in the square and poured water drawn by the villagers over themselves to wash away the gore.
Back in their quarters, having stripped off their soiled clothes to enjoy a proper bath for the first time in ages, hot steam rose from every knight’s body.
Henke, relegated to Heyer’s left-hand man, rested one arm on a chair and asked Heyer, who was busy gulping down beer,
“Still, haven’t the monsters dwindled since we felled the Divine Tree?”
Heyer’s right-hand knight, Annamaria, chimed in.
“Truly. Lately, I feel like we’ve barely seen any of those two-legged ones.”
At the mention of ‘those two-legged ones,’ the knights all breathed sighs of relief.
Among the bizarre beasts, those creatures were the absolute worst. Walking on two legs meant having two hands free.
Creatures capable of using two hands learned how to wield tools. It was as if they were evolving in real time, and nothing matched the terror of having a hefty stone hurled right at you.
Human beings naturally harbored an instinctive fear toward anything that resembled themselves.
As they chattered on either side, Henke turned to Heyer, who was chuckling along with them.
“Commander, didn’t you say you had to head to the capital? Shouldn’t you be leaving soon?”
“I’d love nothing more than to get out of here. But I’m not sure if you lot can manage without me.”
“…Come to think of it, we can’t. Don’t go.”
Heyer merely raised an eyebrow in response and chugged his beer.
Just then, the door to the quarters swung open, and the villagers called out,
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Come have something to eat first!”
The Kawat people carried in a whole roasted lamb. Seeing them prepare a feast fit for a festival, it seemed life had become bearable for them now that the monsters were waning.
As the room grew noisy, Heyer stood up. Annamaria, who had been laughing and chatting with the villagers, caught sight of him and gestured to a page.
“Take him some food.”
“Yes, Dame!”
The page, Diren, grabbed a plate and began selecting foods to Heyer’s taste.
Annamaria turned to Henke, who was already digging into his meal.
“He looks to be in a foul mood lately.”
“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s out here risking his neck guarding the border, yet not a single soul in the capital acknowledges his deeds.”
He continued shoveling food into his mouth without pause.
“Once things settle here, I’d love for us to march in and sweep them all away.”
“…You were born into a decent family, weren’t you? Is it really wise for you to go blabbering about treason like that?”
“I’m only saying it because it’s you.”
“Well… suit yourself.”
Annamaria promptly brushed it off and redirected her attention to the food.
* * *
Diren knocked on the door of the commander’s quarters.
“Commander, I’ve brought your meal. May I enter?”
“Come in.”
At Heyer’s reply, Diren carried the food inside.
Just as Diren had expected, Heyer was grimacing from the pain in his shoulder.
On a physique worthy of a mythological god, a wound that looked as if an axe had cleaved into wood marred his left shoulder.
Pouting, Diren set the meal down before Heyer.
“The wound is opening wider, Commander.”
“I have eyes, boy. I know.”
“Request reinforcements from His Majesty the King. Stop being so stubborn. You belong in a villa recuperating, not stuck on this battlefield.”
Nagging all the while, Diren pulled a white powdered painkiller from Heyer’s luggage.
When Heyer merely laughed it off without answering, Diren clutched the wooden container tightly.
“If you keep laughing it off, I won’t give you this. I’ll throw it away.”
“Go ahead. I’m leaving for the capital the day after tomorrow anyway, so I can always get more there.”
Displeased, Diren chewed on his lip before finally yielding and applying the paste, mixed with water, onto Heyer’s wound.
No matter what they tried, the gaping wound refused to heal. Anyone else would have passed out and never woken up from such an injury, yet Heyer ate his meal without so much as a complaint.
“You just don’t want to get dragged into the political strife, do you?”
Unable to hold back any longer, Diren pried, and Heyer replied,
“I’m comfortable here. Who knows how much longer I’ll live? I have no desire to spend what’s left of it burdened with trouble.”
“You won’t die from a wound like this.”
“Little one.”
Heyer paused his meal and looked at the boy.
“I received this wound two months ago. What looked like a scrape from a tree branch has split this wide in the meantime. Even the doctor says he has no idea why. This won’t heal.”
At his quiet resignation, Diren bit his lip hard.
It felt so unjust that he could hardly bear it. Yet Heyer himself, indifferent and unattached to all things in this world, remained entirely serene.
Only Diren, who attended closely to his daily needs, knew how deep the wound had grown. The others, having assumed it was just a scratch, had long forgotten about it, thinking it had healed ages ago.
Diren spoke sullenly.
“You should at least tell the knights.”
“They may look brazen, but they whine more than you’d think. If it truly seems like the end, I can just tell them on the day it happens.”
“They’ll be devastated.”
“What do I care? I’ll already be dead. Besides, simpletons like them—how long could their grief possibly last?”
Thirteen-year-old Diren secured the bandage tightly, feeling as though their roles as adult and child were completely reversed.
Once Heyer was dressed again with Diren’s assistance, the door burst open without so much as a knock.
“Commander! Commander!”
Heyer turned his head, and Annamaria, standing in the doorway, shouted,
“A full moon has risen! At last! I knew it! That moon is recognizing you, Commander!”
Diren’s throat tightened, and he spun his back to her.
Heyer chuckled softly, patted the back of Diren’s head, and walked outside after Annamaria as though nothing were amiss.
Just as she had said, a full moon hung in the heavens. Ever since King Eswa ascended the throne, the moon had never once been completely full.
In Luwan, a full moon represented the king. Eswa’s deep-seated inferiority was thus inevitable, and tonight’s full moon could only feel like a revelation demanding the acceptance of a new king.