On the day when imperial forces crushed the capital, Princess Selena of Altia Kingdom faced an inevitable choice amid despair. Her father fell pierced by arrows on the throne, her siblings scattered in flight. With her mother's ring in hand, she abandoned the castle.
On the road, when a swarm of monsters attacked, a single man appeared. Dressed in ash-grey cloth with an old scar across his face, the taciturn mercenary's name was Galen. Without hesitation, he cut through the beasts. Selena hired
The sound of an arrow being loosed reached Serena's ears.
The thin whistle of the arrowhead cutting through air. The sharp, thread-like sound of the bowstring snapping. From the upper corridor of Tsukikkan Castle—the connecting bridge spanning seven towers, its white stone walls glowing pale blue in the moonlight—Serena looked down into the throne room below.
Her father collapsed.
Verdan IV, King of the Kingdom of Altia, took two arrows in his back and slowly tilted forward onto the white throne before falling. A red stain spread rapidly across the white stone. Imperial Northern Conquest Legion soldiers flooded the throne room. One placed a hand on her father's neck, then rose silently. That gesture said everything.
Serena made no sound.
Crying, screaming, remaining in place—reason shut it all down. Perhaps "shut down" wasn't the precise word. The emotion was certainly there. The sensation of something shattering in her chest was still vivid. Her father was dead. That was a fact that couldn't be undone. But if she cried now, she would make noise. If she screamed, her position would be revealed. If she stayed, she would be captured. Choosing to live while carrying emotion was preferable to dying while carrying it—that was all there was to it. But in the next moment, it transformed into something else. Like fuel.
Smoke from the western corridor.
The eastern gate's defenses were thin—the Northern Conquest Legion's main force was concentrated in the throne room.
There should be repair scaffolding remaining on the north side of the castle wall—stone workers had been here last week. If they hadn't finished dismantling it, it was usable.
Her fingertips trembled faintly. But Serena's feet were already moving. East along the corridor, down the spiral stairs of the tower. One step, then another. Each footfall made the stone emit a low sound, and somewhere in her mind she thought this was the castle's final music. She only thought it; her pace never slowed.
A thin white linen blouse, black practical slacks. Serena's clothing happened to be perfectly suited for tonight's escape. There was no royal audience scheduled, no official business in the castle—just the attire for a day of administrative work, and now it was saving her life. Her jet-black short hair clung to her neck with sweat. Her sepia-colored eyes stared intently into the darkness of the corridor ahead. On the ring finger of her left hand, her mother's legacy ring sat. The silver band caught the light of a wall brazier for just a moment.
──
There were three ways down to the Brick District.
The castle's structure unfolded in Serena's mind. Eldencia, the capital of the Kingdom of Altia, spread across the west bank of the Seylan River, was divided into three districts centered on Tsukikkan Castle. The Silver Pillar District where nobles lived, the Market Ring District where merchants and craftsmen mixed, and the Brick District of commoners and laborers. The Imperial Army had seized Tsukikkan Castle and the Silver Pillar District tonight. The Brick District was still in chaos—not yet fully occupied, which meant it could serve as an escape route.
The western underground passage route had smoke coming through it. Unusable.
The southern guard post route—the Imperial soldiers had pushed through there first tonight. Out of the question.
The eastern culvert—the drainage channel running through the base of the castle wall—remained. She had only seen it on maps, never actually traversed it. But her memory should be accurate. When her father taught her the castle's structure, he had shown her the culvert layout as well. Father always made sure to teach such knowledge to the princess as well.
At the bottom of the stairs, Serena stopped.
An Imperial soldier stood at the corridor's corner—no, not an Imperial soldier. An elderly man in Altian guard uniform, clutching his abdomen and leaning against the wall. Two Imperial soldiers stood before him, demanding something. The old gatekeeper's face was familiar. Eldan—that was his name, she was sure. He had served at the south gate for over twenty years, and whenever Father permitted the princess to go out, it was always Eldan who opened the gate. As a child, she had seen his white beard many times from inside the carriage. Father had taught her his name, and she had remembered it ever since.
Go, Serena told herself. She didn't speak aloud.
Calculations ran through her head. How to draw away those two Imperial soldiers? It wasn't impossible. But she had no plan for how to escape after drawing them away. No weapons. She couldn't match trained soldiers in speed. Going to help that old man would only hasten Serena's own death. If Serena died, there would be no one to reclaim Altia's throne.
Priority. Survival or duty—which came first?
Serena turned on her heel.
As she rounded the corner, something sank deep in her chest. It sank and stayed there. She knew the name of this feeling. She would suppress it for now. She could face it later, as much as she wanted—she told herself this while knowing the words might be a lie.
The culvert entrance was at the eastern base of the castle. A low stone arch, a narrow passage requiring her to crouch. Serena entered without hesitation. It was dark. Water flowed at her feet. The smell of decomposing leaves and soil assaulted her nose.
There were three branch points. She traced her memory. Drew the map lines in her mind's eye. The first branch went left—the flow running along the castle wall base. The second went straight—merging with the Market Ring District's drainage. The third went right—leading out to the edge of the Brick District.
Left. Straight. Right.
Serena advanced without hesitation. To hesitate was to stop; to stop was to die. That was all there was to it.
At the exit beyond the castle wall, one final decision was necessary. The repair scaffolding or the water gate.
The scaffolding was on the north side. The height from the top of the castle wall to the ground was approximately seven meters. The scaffolding was wooden construction, designed so workers could descend even at night—there would be safety margins. But the north side caught moonlight easily. It would be conspicuous.
The water gate faced the Seylan River. Distance was about twenty meters. The water was cold but not deep enough to drown in—the river's width meant the current should be gentle. But considering Serena's physical condition tonight, there was a possibility she would have nothing left after swimming across. The journey to Lavalia hadn't even begun yet.
She chose the scaffolding.
She made her way around to the north side of the castle wall and reached the base of the scaffolding. The moonlight was indeed bright. Serena looked up at the sky once. Two moons hung side by side in the night sky of the Versius Continent—the dual moon god Lunaris, worshipped in Altia. The night when the large and small moons shone together was a night for prayer, Father had said. Tonight was nearly a full moon. She thought it was the worst possible night.
Still, she climbed.
She grasped the wooden crossbars and descended from above, keeping her hands from slipping, controlling her breathing. Her jet-black short hair stuck to her forehead; her sepia eyes confirmed the night farmland below. Imperial soldiers—she couldn't see any now.
Her feet touched the ground.
──
About half an hour's walk north from the road, she saw the flicker of a campfire ahead.
Serena immediately left the road. Into the irrigation ditch beside the street—a channel about a meter wide that brought water to the farmland—she slipped silently. It was cold. Muddy water soaked into her clothes. She kept her breathing shallow.
The sound of hoofbeats came.
Four riders. A patrol unit of the Northern Conquest Legion. The lead soldier, carrying a campfire, advanced while scanning both sides of the road. The vibration of the horse's hooves striking the stone pavement reached Serena's body through the mud. A low sensation that resonated all the way to her core.
The campfire's light reflected on the water's surface. The irrigation ditch's water turned orange. Serena went motionless in the water.
In that moment, she became aware of the ring's weight.
The silver band on her left ring finger, submerged in the muddy water. The ring her mother had pressed into her hand on her deathbed. The material appeared to be nothing more than ordinary silver at first glance. The design was almost excessively simple for a royal heirloom—just a thin band of silver bent into a circle. No gems, no engravings. Yet her mother had placed it in Serena's hand and said, "Don't let go." Her final words, spoken when her voice was nearly gone.
The attendants said it was proof of the legitimacy of the House of Altia. But no one had told her anything beyond that. Why was this simple ring proof of legitimacy? Why not the royal scepter or the crown?
The hoofbeats faded into the distance.
The campfire's light vanished. The irrigation ditch's water returned to its dark color.
Serena pulled herself up. Mud clung to her slacks; her blouse had grown heavy. As she stood, she looked at her left hand.
The ring was still there.
Tonight, she had been conscious of shedding weight multiple times. Don't carry unnecessary things, stay light, keep only what's necessary for survival. She had told herself this repeatedly. Yet the ring—she hadn't even considered removing it before the option failed to occur to her.
As a logical judgment, the ring was baggage. It shone; it might rust in muddy water. And yet.
Serena paused for a moment. She placed her hand on the edge of the irrigation ditch and steadied her breathing. Wind came across the night farmland. It carried the lingering scent of wheat—this year's wheat had already been harvested, but the smell remained in the soil. Serena inhaled that scent for about five seconds—a mixture of earth, grass, and night dew, something she had never smelled within the castle walls.
Then she stood and began walking again.
──
Just before dawn, as the sky changed from black to indigo, she reached a fork in the road.
Left—a mountain path heading northwest. Right—a flat road extending east.
Serena stopped and compared the two paths. Her body's fatigue began to assert itself clearly now. Her feet felt heavy. The muscles in her back had stiffened. After hours of continuous walking since fleeing the castle, she was already this exhausted.
The northwest path led to Lavalia. The Kingdom of Altia and the northwestern Duchy of Lavalia—rulers of the mountainous regions of the continent, an ancient ally—had formed the Dual Crown Covenant about seventy years ago. The Dual Crown Covenant meant the royal families of both nations were bound by marriage, and each would send armies in the other's time of crisis. As long as this covenant existed, Lavalia couldn't abandon Altia. At least, there was diplomatic grounds for it. But to reach Lavalia, one had to cross the Volg Mountain Range—a treacherous chain of peaks exceeding three thousand meters in elevation that ran east-west across the northern continent. The mountain passes were limited, and there was a possibility the Imperial Army had already begun blockading the borders.
The eastern road led to a port town. She could escape the continent by sea. It might be safe. But—
Serena looked at the eastern road, then her gaze fell to her hand.
The ring on her left hand.
Reclaim the throne. That was what she had chosen the moment she left the castle tonight. Not to flee. To survive and return. If a princess who escaped on the night her father died in the throne room left the continent, that would be flight.
Serena had inherited her father's strategic mind. She could memorize a map after seeing it once. The ability to read situations several moves ahead came from learning under her father. But in just these few hours tonight, she had already learned something. Even if the mind f
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