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 Princess's Sword - The meaning of the Ash Ambush and Silence
The color of dawn had yet to reach beyond the edge of the sky.
The cargo wagon had stopped.
Serena gripped the ring inside the latticed enclosure, probing the texture of how it had stopped. Not the stop of applied brakes. The driver had loosened the reins, intentionally reducing speed to a halt—that kind of stop. She heard the voice of the lead mounted soldier.
"The horse—"
The words cut off.
The next moment, something fell outside the lattice. Not a sound, but the sensation of weight dropping into the air. The scrape of metal. A breath like a groan escaped briefly, then vanished.
Serena kept her fingers on the lattice, unmoving.
Before another voice could rise outside, something else fell. From the position of the rear infantry—the position Mira had said yesterday was "about two meters from the wagon"—the same weight fell. This time the sound was slightly louder. It was the kind of fall that came with the hardness of armor.
Mira spoke from the opposite side of the lattice, her voice barely a whisper.
"—They've arrived."
Her jade-green eyes glowed quietly in the darkness.
Serena did not answer. Before certainty could form, she was organizing what could be done. The lattice could only be opened from outside. The key was at the waist of the lead mounted soldier—but the lead mounted soldier was already down. Someone outside could retrieve the key. What that someone outside was doing now was—
A click sounded.
The lattice door was pulled from the outside.
A gray overcoat stood in the darkness of the street before dawn. Galen Raizen. The sword scar on his left cheek was clearly visible even in the thin light. Silver eyes confirmed the interior of the lattice for only a moment, then returned to the darkness outside. His expression was blank. The only proof he was truly here was the motion of removing the small key from the lock in his hand.
"Get out."
His voice was low. Words constructed from only necessary sounds.
Serena stepped out of the lattice. The moment her feet touched the street's soil, her body tilted slightly—the fatigue of three days' transport descended on her lower body all at once. She straightened without showing it. Mira came out after her. The small frame stumbled slightly with the impact of landing.
Galen did not turn around. He had already begun walking east.
Serena followed behind his back. The transport squad's soldiers lay fallen. All of them. The lead mounted soldier, the rear infantry, the guards—exactly as Mira had organized their numbers and positions last night. There was no time to confirm details, but she caught their count and location in the edge of her vision while changing her foot's direction. Four and six. All neutralized.
They were not dead, she thought. Killing would make noise. There had been none.
—What is this procedure?
That question walked with her footsteps along the road.
──
When they left the street and entered the forest, Galen changed direction.
Not west, but north-northwest. Toward the Volg Mountain Range, but not the shortest route along the street. Serena walked behind, considering the reason for that choice. If heading toward the mountain range, one should take a westerly path. Heading north-northwest meant—
Galen stopped. In the shadow of low brush, he confirmed ahead and to the sides. Then he raised his right hand slightly. A signal to stop.
All three became still.
In the distance, the sound of hoofbeats. From southeast to northwest—the sound of mounted riders heading to rejoin the transport squad. Not pursuers, but a second wave to meet the advance guard. It passed along the street. It did not enter the forest.
Galen began walking again.
At the next fork, he circled to the east. Not toward the ridge, but a choice that seemed to head toward the valley. Serena thought for a moment. Heading toward the valley would put them at a geographical disadvantage against pursuers—that's what one would normally think. But what Galen was choosing now was not to flee from the direction pursuers would "easily pursue," but to preempt the opposite of the direction pursuers would "attempt to complete their encirclement." That kind of movement. The movement of someone who knew the interior of the imperial northern campaign army's patrol formations—this recognition had been born even in the wagon during the fourth night, but after this series of actions, it was beginning to shed the fog of "perhaps" and take on clear outline.
Mira fell slightly behind. Her chestnut-brown braided hair had come loose and fallen on her shoulders. Fatigue showed in her leg movements, but she made no sound. With a body bearing the exhaustion of days of captivity, she maintained this pace.
────
When the forest grew deeper, Galen stopped again.
Something was carved into the base of a thick-trunked tree. Small, deep, intentional. Serena peered at it. Three horizontal lines and one diagonal line above them. A type of communication symbol used by the remaining Altian forces, Serena knew. In the kingdom's archives, she had read this kind of code in the communication systems of resistance organizations.
But Galen lifted his gaze from the symbol and confirmed the ground around the tree. The area around the roots. The disturbance of fallen leaves. Trampled traces remained with a newer date than the symbol.
Serena saw the same thing.
The age of the carved symbol and the age of the trampled ground were misaligned. The symbol was from several days ago. But the trampling was from last night or this morning—the heel marks of imperial military boots remained on the edges of fallen leaves.
"—Part of the communication network had been compromised," Serena said, her voice suppressed. Not as certainty, but as estimation. Yet she also knew that speaking an estimation into words gave it substance.
The meeting point was known. Someone among the Altian remnants—held something with the empire.
Galen turned his gaze from the symbol and looked north. He did not deny it.
Not denying was the answer.
Mira watched the two of them. Her jade eyes confirmed the symbol and the ground traces, organizing the situation. There was no fear in those eyes. Only information processing. Serena reconfirmed the sharpness of this girl's observational ability.
"We cannot go to the meeting point," Serena said.
"We circle north," Galen said.
Galen spoke briefly. He did not follow Serena's words but reached nearly the same conclusion simultaneously. The two of them were in agreement—that fact remained as a strange sensation.
The three headed north through the forest.
────
The pursuit continued.
The sense of imperial scouts spreading did not fade even as they changed direction. Galen adjusted his course slightly each time, never crossing the pursuers head-on. After entering the low brush area, the sensation of pursuing numbers increased. Not a response to the advance guard, but this time organized as a full-scale search party.
Mira's pace began to lag.
Not visibly. But each time Serena checked behind, the distance was slightly greater than before. The exhaustion from the period of captivity and the weight of this escape were accumulating in a seventeen-year-old body. Only the way her feet landed had changed, without her saying anything.
Galen stopped.
He turned and reached for the shoulder strap of Mira's pack. He said nothing. He did not confirm anything. He simply took part of the load and placed it on his own shoulder. That was all. There were no words of consideration, no instructions. He simply redistributed the necessary weight—just that action.
Mira froze for a moment.
She almost reflexively said "that's not necessary," but swallowed the words. Because Galen had already turned forward and begun walking. There was no time to accept; it was already complete.
Serena watched the entire sequence from behind.
Not an order. Not an expression of emotion. Simply a necessary redistribution, completed in silence. A repeating characteristic of this man's way of moving—he did not put words first; he put judgment first. That judgment always came from accurate perception of reality. The route choice to evade imperial patrols, the speed of reading the symbol traces, and now the matter of Mira's pack.
Serena traced the direction of that thinking while moving her feet.
He was not moving by the logic of the fleeing side. He was reading ahead how the pursuing side would next expand their formation, and slipping out before it closed. That kind of movement. The movement of someone who knew the interior of the imperial northern campaign army's patrol formations—this recognition had been born even in the wagon, but now after this series of actions, it was shedding the fog of "perhaps" and taking on clear outline.
The cold air flowing down from the Volg Mountain Range passed through the low brush and touched her skin. The light of dawn was beginning to enter from above the forest, but it was still thin, and darkness was deeper. The sense of pursuit—was gradually fading.
────
When a rock outcrop came into view, the sound of pursuit had completely vanished.
At the southern foot of the Volg Mountain Range, where large rocks overlapped to create a natural overhang, a small stream flowed nearby. It was difficult to see from outside. Inside, there was space enough for three people to lie down. Galen entered first, confirmed the interior, then turned back.
All three entered the rock shelter.
Exhaustion descended on all of them at once. Three days of transport, one night of escape, hours of pursuit—all accumulated weight descended together. Mira was the first to lean her back against the rock wall. Her jade eyes narrowed slightly, and she took one long breath. Not so much a release of tension as permission to release—that kind of breath.
Within minutes, Mira's breathing deepened. She was asleep.
Only Serena and Galen remained awake.
Cold air flowing from the Volg Mountain Range curved around the rock's edge and entered. The light of dawn was beginning to turn the outer rock face white, but inside the shelter was still dim. A bird called in the distance. Only one cry. Then silence returned.
Serena touched her left hand's ring, confirming its texture between her fingers. Her mother's silver circle, hidden in her mouth in the wagon. She had returned it to her ring finger during the escape. The metal was cold, but gradually absorbing her body heat and warming.
Galen sat near the shelter's entrance, facing outward. It was clear he did not intend to sleep. He continued his vigilance. Dark brown hair with a gray cast, the old sword scar on his left cheek. Silver eyes looking out into the thin light.
Serena spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Did you return only for the reward?"
This question had been forming in Serena's mind since the night the wagon stopped, since she began to think that a horse blocking the path and then departing was not coincidence. The precision of tonight's ambush, the way of moving that knew the blind spots of imperial formations from inside, the speed of reading the meeting point's symbol—these accumulated until this question took shape.
She did not want to verbalize what could not be contained within the form of mercenary and employer. Verbalization would change something. She was not prepared for that change.
So she posed the question in its smallest form.
Did you return only for the reward?
Galen did not answer.
The gaze looking outward shifted angle slightly. Whether it turned toward Serena or not could not be determined precisely in the dim shelter.
Silence continued. The mountain's cold air strengthened for a moment, curving around the rock's edge and entering. Mira's peaceful breathing filled the gap.
Serena stopped waiting for an answer. From the moment she posed the question, she had not expected an answer in the form of words. This man's silence was not evasion but rather that among what he possessed, there was nothing in word form available now
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.