Chapter 1
“Let me ask again. Are you Crown Prince Patrick?”
“……”
The prisoner clad in silver plate armor did not respond.
“Remove the helmet.”
Emperor Harzen Eint Karl Verque of the Karsik Empire gave the command.
He had just emerged from his bath, where he had been leisurely sipping liquor while listening to a lute performance. Water dripped from his wet black hair as he tied the sash of his black silk robe and sat down on the sofa.
The prisoner, held on either side by two knights, was clearly smaller in build than the men restraining them. Deputy Commander Kalip removed the prisoner’s fully enclosed steel helmet.
“Ah!”
Gasps of admiration escaped from everyone in the reception room connected to the emperor’s bedchamber.
As Kalip pulled off the helmet, he also tugged on a tied ribbon. A cascade of thick, wavy golden hair tumbled out like a torrent of liquid gold.
“Ha… Crown Prince Patrick?”
A servant, who had been drying the emperor’s wet hair, leaned down and whispered quietly in the emperor’s ear.
“Your Majesty, it appears she is a woman.”
The emperor rose swiftly and seized the sword hanging on the wall. He drew it from its scabbard and pressed the cold, sharp blade against the prisoner’s neck.
“Of course you’re not Patrick. I know well how poor his swordsmanship is. Based on your skill, you couldn’t be him.”
The Emperor tore off the cloth wrapped around his neck. It had been applied by a military physician who had followed him to the castle, treated his wound, and wrapped it with herbs.
He brushed over the wound with his left hand. As the cloth came off, a bead of blood clung redly to the back of his hand.
The emperor raised the tip of his sword. The blade pressed into the prisoner’s thin, white neck, drawing a red line across the smooth skin.
“Speak. Who are you?”
“Kill me.”
“Whether I kill or spare you is my decision. Just answer the question. Who are you?”
“……”
Even the armor was suspicious.
“You’re a woman, aren’t you? Why did you pretend to be Patrick?”
“Kill me.”
The emperor shifted the blade from her neck to beneath her chin and glanced over at Kalip, speaking coolly.
“Remove her armor.”
Kalip proceeded to remove the segmented armor — the pauldrons, spaulders, and couters that covered her shoulders and torso. As he removed the gauntlets, slender wrists and pale hands were revealed.
Such delicate wrists!
The emperor grew irritated.
He had let his guard down, yes, but the memory of being bested in a duel by someone with such fragile wrists came flooding back. And then the prophecy he had dismissed as the ramblings of a blind old woman in the bath returned to him.
“Tonight, Your Majesty’s bedchamber shall be claimed by a maiden who resembles the sun.”
A lady who looked exactly like Patrick.
Ha, what madness.
And then the sealed memory returned — the incident on the dim terrace during the graduation celebration at Tane Academy. He had dismissed it as a fantasy, something impossible, and tried to forget.
But it wasn’t a fantasy.
So, it was you.
*
The early summer sun rose hastily.
“It’s going to be a long day.”
A tense air of war hovered over the misty Tamil Valley.
“Today, we capture the commander of Tane!”
The battle that had begun in Panaho was intense. With Tane’s military strength still unconfirmed, they had lost the Panaho area after four days of fighting.
The battlefield had shifted, pushed back by the enemy, to the foothills of Mount Victoire. Ironically, this gave the advantage to the Karsik soldiers who had trained on Mount Victoire.
While reorganizing at a military camp set up at the base of the Tamil Valley, 20,000 soldiers stationed in the Golden Valley of Kaosan, in the empire’s north, arrived.
The previous night, a group of Tane soldiers moving under the cover of darkness near the mountains had been captured. From them, they extracted the information that the commander was Crown Prince Patrick.
“The one in the silver plate armor is Tane’s commander. I’ll reward a gold mine sector to whoever brings me his head. Capture him, even just the head is fine.”
The emperor spurred his black warhorse, Khan.
“Let’s go!”
Horn calls rang out, and the sound of hooves and drums shook the valley.
Patrick, you say…!
If it was Patrick, the emperor could overpower him using only his right hand, even though he was left-handed. Leading his elite Black Chain Knights, he furiously pursued the one in silver armor.
They drove him like a rabbit all the way to the Tamil Valley. While the knights engaged the guards escorting the silver armor, the emperor closed in directly on him.
The silver-armored figure briefly glanced at the emperor, then sharply turned away and fled.
Patrick. You?
The emperor tugged at the reins of Khan. The massive black horse reared, snorted, and galloped forward. They neared the limestone cliff where the Tamil Valley’s waters roared below.
Cornered near the cliff’s edge, the silver-armored figure dismounted.
The emperor also dismounted and removed his Ahemel helmet. In doing so, he revealed his face to a cornered Patrick.
If Patrick, recognizing Harzen as the new emperor, lowered his sword and surrendered, the emperor intended to capture him alive, with proper respect, as a hostage.
They had once been schoolmates at Tane Empire Academy. Patrick was two years younger, but they had been fairly close.
Back in the academy days, the two were both crown princes, destined to become emperors of the two great empires of the Arkan continent.
Crown Prince Patrick, who was never seen without a book in hand, was dignified and gentle in temperament. He was nothing like his war-crazed father, Emperor Kazan, their characters were fundamentally different.
Patrick preferred poetry recitations and debates over sword training. His swordsmanship was poor.
Patrick, I respected you.
As the early summer sun set, the sky turned crimson, and a veil of summer evening mist and darkness settled over the dense forest and valley.
The emperor looked up at the reddening sky, then resumed his steps, heading toward his opponent. The distance between them closed to where their eyes could meet through the slits of their helmets.
Suddenly, the silver-armored figure lunged, swinging their sword with dazzling speed. Their movements were laced with venom.
“Crown Prince Patrick, weren’t you the one who claimed war was the worst choice that destroyed everything, who said that war and violence could never be glorified regardless of victory or defeat? So your lofty ideals crumble so easily before gold, how cheap.”
The emperor, unable to hide his disappointment, swung his sword sharply. After several exchanges of attack and defense, he realized Patrick’s swordsmanship had improved significantly compared to their academy days.
The emperor met the descending blade with controlled force, crossing swords as he looked into the eyes behind the silver helmet.
The blue-gray eyes, filled with murderous intent, glared sharply back at him.
After stealing his gaze, the silver-armored figure slashed at the emperor’s exposed neck.
“You dare! Patrick, how dare you—!”
He dodged swiftly, but dark red blood spurted from his neck as he staggered and coughed.
Clutching his neck with a gauntlet, the emperor deftly swung his sword with his left hand.
Patrick, you’ve grown sharper since I last saw you. What changed you?
The emperor deflected the clashing blade, pushing the silver-armored figure back. But they quickly regained their footing and counterattacked with their sword. They were evenly matched.
Then, the silver-armored figure raised their left gauntlet, index finger extended, spinning it in the air and pointing it skyward.
What… is that some kind of signal?
The emperor ignored it and relentlessly targeted the weak points at the shoulder and side. Even with segmented armor, movement around the joints was limited.
Just as the emperor’s sword aimed beneath the pauldron covering the shoulder, the silver-armored figure struck back.
Clang, clang, clang.
Their blades collided, sending blue sparks flying as they locked in a contest of strength in front of the silver helmet. The emperor quickly lifted his sword and twisted the blade to deflect the opponent’s.
Clang.
The silver-armored figure’s sword fell to the ground. Losing their weapon, they quickly turned and moved to leap into the valley below.
But the emperor was faster. He lunged forward and grabbed the silver-armored figure by the waist.
Even through the armor, their body felt fragile and light.
Patrick?
Damn it!
Through the thick armor, the emperor caught a scent that made him grimace.
“Your Majesty, are you hurt?”
Deputy Commander Kalip and three knights who had followed quickly bound the silver-armored figure in black chains. Kalip provided emergency treatment for the emperor’s neck wound.
The wound wasn’t deep.
At the last moment, the hand that held the sword hadn’t been strong enough to sever the throat completely. It was insulting. Patrick, you dared to aim for my throat with such pitiful strength?
The emperor’s party descended to the military camp at the base of the valley.
Soldiers who had been resting against trees or preparing the evening meal by campfires erupted in cheers at the sight of the silver-armored figure bound in black chains.
“The commander of Tane has been captured!”
“Waaah! Long live Karsik!”
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”
“Harzen, Harzen, Harzen, Harzen!”
The soldiers chanted Harzen’s name with rhythm and emphasis, like a chorus.
To them, Harzen was not simply the dignified name of their emperor, it was something to be praised like the sky, the sun, the moon, and the stars.
The emperor, having dismounted from his large black warhorse Khan, raised his sword high toward the sky, and the cheering ceased instantly.
He walked over to where thirty or so Tane prisoners sat in a group, bound. He slashed the restraints of one with his sword and ordered the deputy commander to provide a horse.
“Go. That is the commander and crown prince of Tane.”
He pointed the tip of his sword at the silver-armored figure.
“Tell the Emperor of Tane, if he does not propose negotiations within three days, I will hang the crown prince’s head from the sycamore tree in Panaho.”
The emperor raised his sword high toward the southern sky in the direction of Tane.
“And know this, this war is not over!”
“Waaah! To Tane!”
“To Tane we go! Harzen, Harzen, Harzen, Harzen!”
Kalip suggested to the emperor that he rest at Pana Castle near Panaho instead of in the military barracks that night.
“Shall I?”
“Your Majesty, what shall we do with the prisoner? Should we keep him with the Tane soldiers…?”
“Keep him alone. No, bring him to Pana Castle.”
Kalip placed the armored prisoner in a cart and tethered it to his horse. The emperor’s black warhorse Khan led the way, followed by three knights and the cart carrying the prisoner.
Before long, the majestic Pana Castle came into view.
The emperor longed for a hot bath infused with spices and a glass of strong liquor before sleeping soundly.
As it happened, a blind, wandering lutenist was staying at Pana Castle. Since the emperor enjoyed lute music, his steward had arranged for her to stay in a guest wing.
The emperor ordered Kalip to take the prisoner to a guest room, not the underground dungeon, and to treat him with the respect due a crown prince of an enemy nation.
Warm food and a bath were to be provided, but the prisoner’s hands and feet were to be bound to prevent self-harm or escape.
The emperor sipped green liquor, Panian, while listening to the blind old lutenist’s performance.
Truly, it was a melody of dreams.
The fatigue from the past ten days of intense battle melted away.
As soon as he had heard the news that countless Tane soldiers had crossed the Panaho border without a declaration of war, he had ridden nonstop from the capital, Liswan.
If it hadn’t been Patrick and had been the war-crazed Emperor Kazan instead, the war would not have ended so swiftly. Damn Patrick.
At the thought of Patrick, a fierce wave of betrayal burned within him.
The lutenist could not see the present, her eyes were black as pitch. But the blind old woman had eyes that could see the future.
When she looked into the future, even the colors of objects became vivid, and she could feel the tender, dewy texture of fresh grass.
After finishing two tender, delicate melodies, the lutenist turned her head toward the faint sound of running water.
The blind old woman bowed her head toward the emperor, who was reclining with his eyes closed in the bath.
“O blazing flame of the Empire, golden sun, Your Majesty.”
“Speak.”
“Tonight, Your Majesty’s bedchamber must be given to a maiden who resembles the sun.”
