Chapter 154

Several hours later, just as the sun dipped behind them in a slow, golden descent, a speck no larger than a grain of millet appeared on the horizon. It grew rapidly—first to the size of a fist, then, by the following dawn, into a vast landmass stretching across the skyline.

Bathed in the radiant glow of morning, the Grand Port of Tentaluna—renowned as the open gateway to southeastern Grandel—gradually unveiled its majestic silhouette.

Elise’s heart beat with a strange, giddy exhilaration. At last, she stood on the cusp of the land where she had been born and raised. The southern reaches of Grandel lay just within reach.

“Please watch your step, Your Highness.”

Elise accepted Barnon’s outstretched hand and disembarked. She walked steadily down the long plank that bridged ship and shore, her boots landing with quiet finality on solid ground.

The snug trousers cinched at her ankles and the scuffed leather shoes felt alien compared to her usual ankle-length dresses. Fearing that the sight of a woman disembarking might draw attention, she had changed just before leaving the ship. Her hair was tucked beneath a flat cap, concealed further by a low-drawn hood.

Though her slender frame was hard to disguise, the oversized coat gave her the illusion of a wiry, small-statured boy.

“I can’t help but wonder what great sin I’ve committed against Your Highness,” Barnon muttered, unable to mask his dismay.
“To think I’ve forced you into such beggarly rags… I don’t dare show my face before His Late Majesty or Her Majesty the Empress.”

“What’s so terrible about this outfit?” Elise said lightly. “It’s comfortable—and practical.”

“It’s sailor’s garb, coarse and unworthy. Your skin may chafe.”

Barnon wasn’t alone in his sorrowful gaze—most of the Arganians wore the same wounded expression.

“You deserve only the finest—finest clothes, finest surroundings…”

“It’s our shame that you must endure this…”

“This insult will not go unanswered!”

Insult seemed a bit dramatic. But Elise knew better than to say so aloud. If she did, they’d surely press her about how she’d grown so accustomed to disguises—what kind of treatment had she endured in Rotiara to make such clothing feel familiar? Rather than invite the question, she simply offered a quiet smile and let it pass. In any case, once her belly began to show, even these disguises would be useless.

She adjusted her cap and cast a subtle glance around the port.

It was larger than Norella, the northern harbor they had departed from. Here, ships came and went in an unbroken rhythm, merchants shouting above the din of laborers and gulls.

If Norella was the sentinel of the north, then Tentaluna was the beating heart of the south. And amid the commerce, a more ominous presence—several warships loomed at the eastern edge of the harbor, standing ready for naval engagement.

Elise inhaled deeply.

How long had it been since she’d felt the firmness of earth beneath her boots? And this breeze… It wasn’t sharp or cruel like the winds of the north. It was soft, familiar—gentle warmth brushing her cheeks and filling her lungs.

Gone were the fur-lined coats and heavy garments of colder lands. Here, under the high midday sun, sleeves were rolled and collars loosened. Some wore sandals, others walked barefoot across the planks. The south wore winter like a whispered rumor—never quite real.

After nearly ten months, Elise had returned to the southern reaches of Grandel. A quiet smile curved her lips. There was a comfort here—something unspoken, something only a homeland could offer.

The port bustled with a mix of foreign tongues and native voices. After disembarking, their group moved discreetly through side streets, avoiding the crowds. Their destination: an inn tucked away from the noisy main roads. Knights sent ahead at dawn had secured it in advance.

“The Ugel are still searching for Your Highness,” one of them reported. “They’re focused mainly on the central desert border and the northern front. Even last summer, it was a close call avoiding their scouts near the lower Tene River.”

“So they’ve discovered I’m the central conduit for magic,” Elise murmured. “I suppose that was the first secret the Chancellor sold.”

Her gaze dropped to the map spread across the table—worn, creased, and marked with notes. From this point on, the journey would continue overland. Their next destination: Riosa Castle, nestled in the southeastern reaches of the Kingdom of Regal, where Andrei lay in hiding.

“Let’s circle around through the neutral territories. This way—through the northern forests of the Kingdom of Everil.”

Barnon frowned as he studied the route Elise indicated.

“If we detour northwest like this, it could take two or three times longer…”

“Even so,” Elise said firmly, “we have to take the safer path. If the barbarians catch wind of our movements, reaching Regal will be impossible. Worse—we risk exposing Andrei’s location.”

Every step forward demanded caution. There could be no room for recklessness now. Elise’s voice was steady, her conviction absolute.

“And it won’t take months,” she added. “Just one week. We’ll reach Riosa by then.”

The fifteen days at sea had pushed Elise’s body to its limits. Morning sickness, worsened by the unrelenting waves, had left her drained. Only as her nausea began to subside did she begin her attempts to reach Andrei—through dreams.

She had to find him before the child grew too large—before the last of her magic slipped from her grasp.

After several failed efforts, she had finally managed to breach the veil of her subconscious. The connection had been incomplete, Andrei’s figure lost in fog, his presence only half-formed. But it had been enough to deliver her message.

“Send a carrier bird,” she said. “I need the largest teleportation circle you can create—one that spans the greatest distance and can transport as many people as possible.”

“I’ll send it to the Valley of a Thousand Years,” Barnon replied, pointing to the northern border of Everil. “From there to Riosa… it’s not impossible. But it’ll require an enormous amount of magic…”

“We’ll manage,” Elise said without hesitation. “Just send it.”

Her eyes remained on the map, tracing the path ahead, her expression unwavering. The road was long, the stakes high—but her resolve was firm.

***

On the first floor of the inn, the dining hall bustled with sailors and weary travelers. The air was thick with the scent of warm food—grilled sausages and goat cheese, rye bread stuffed with greens, onion soup, braised pork shoulder in a wine reduction, mashed potatoes, boiled eggs, vanilla pudding, and two jars of cherry confit.

“You’re planning to eat all this by yourself?”

Elise, stiff with nerves, gave a slight nod and quietly slipped another piece of paper to the innkeeper.

The woman, kindly and curious, tilted her head as she took the note.

Please bring the pudding and cherry confit first. I’ll take one jar upstairs with me.

They were set to depart for the Kingdom of Everil the next day. Elise had slipped downstairs for a stolen moment of peace in this rare lull. After so many days aboard the ship, most would’ve expected her to sleep half the day away. But hunger had eclipsed exhaustion. It gnawed at her with a fierceness she couldn’t ignore.

Many foreigners on the Tentaluna Peninsula didn’t speak the continent’s common tongue. Disguised as one of them, Elise had chosen to communicate through handwritten notes—her voice too great a risk to reveal.

“Well, I suppose you’re at that age when boys grow like weeds. Here you go.”

Thankfully, the innkeeper had mistaken her for a young boy and, without further question, handed her a plate of pudding heaped with glistening cherry confit and a glass jar brimming with more of the thick, fragrant preserves.

Elise took the dish and retreated to the quietest corner of the room. The rich, honeyed scent of slow-cooked fruit wrapped around her like a blanket. She took a bite—one of the softened cherries bursting against her tongue, sweet and tart, vivid with flavor.

A soft sigh slipped from her lips.

“Ah… I feel alive again.”

During the two-week voyage, there was only one thing Elise had craved nearly as much as the man she’d left behind in Van Yela: cherry confit.

For the past three days, her mind had been utterly consumed by the thought of cherries steeped in sugar and honey. At one point, her cravings grew so intense she began seeing every face around her as a cherry—complete with eyes, a nose, and a mouth. If that wasn’t a sign of obsession, nothing was.

The pudding and confit vanished in a blink. Elise stared at the empty plate, a flicker of disappointment tugging at her. The taste had been fine—sweet, fragrant, even comforting—but something was missing. It wasn’t quite the flavor she’d been yearning for.

In truth, the cherries she had in mind were different.

It must’ve been that day she’d first wandered the crowded streets of Rotiara with Rezette. A vendor’s stall had been selling cherry confit so vibrant and glossy that she’d nearly reached for it on impulse. But Rezette had stopped her. Firmly.

“Elise. You may have that after we return and you’ve had a proper meal.”

Not stern in passing—genuinely strict.

It wasn’t just any cherry confit she wanted. It was that one—the one she’d been denied, the one she’d looked back at over her shoulder with regret.

If he’d just let me have a bite back then, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling so sulky now.

Propping her chin in her hand, Elise glared at the jar of jam she now had to ration like a precious treasure.

In the end, she hadn’t gotten to try a single thing from the street stalls. But perhaps as some quiet compensation, sweets had begun to appear with her tea and after meals, starting the very next day. Looking back, it might’ve been Rezette’s awkward way of showing concern—expressed not through words, but through confections.

The cherry confit made by Hummel, the palace chef in Rotiara, had been delicious, too.

Warm pear preserves. Lemon cheesecake tarts…

Desserts she’d eaten with remarkable discipline during that first month, determined to meet Rezette’s ridiculous condition: gain some weight, and I’ll hold you as much as you want.

Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

It’d be nice if he brought those along when he comes… if he really is coming, that is.

The human body was a curious thing. Just weeks ago, even the smell of food had turned Elise’s stomach. Now, every savory aroma seemed to stir her hunger.

The ship’s physician—a healer from Hamaram who had examined her briefly—had noted the subtle rounding of her belly and declared she’d entered a stable phase. Aside from a few foods to avoid, he encouraged her to eat well and without restraint.

Just then, the rest of her order arrived. Elise pushed aside her empty dessert plate and pulled the steaming bowl of onion soup closer.

She spooned it up carefully, determined to chase away the lingering ache for cherries, when—

“Did you hear? The war demon from Van Yela is heading south.”

The spoon nearly slipped from her fingers.

Heart jolting, Elise quickly scanned the room, ears straining.

At a nearby table, three dockworkers, fresh off their shift, nursed mugs of beer and spoke in low, rough voices. The dining hall was nearly empty at this hour, their conversation ringing clear in the quiet.

“Oh, you mean the Northern Alliance finally joined up with Ugel? Word is they’re pushing toward the western front.”

“Yeah, looks like it’s official. If Ugel swallows the western Kingdom of Regal too… that’s nearly half of Grandel in barbarian hands. Damn it all.”

Elise’s pulse thundered in her ears.

War—already?

If Regal was the target, then the enemy had likely uncovered what they’d worked so hard to hide: that Andrei and the remnants of Argann’s forces were stationed there. Just as she and her allies had moved in secret for the past ten months, so too had their enemies.

But all of that faded behind the one thing that gripped her mind.

Someone just said… who is coming south?

“If it’s the war demon, then it must be Grand Duke Kyrstan, right? He’s the supreme commander?”

“Yeah. There was a Northern Alliance meeting in Rotiara just a few days ago, and that’s what they decided. He’ll probably be leaving soon… or maybe he already has.”

Elise’s appetite evaporated. Silently, she pushed her bowl of soup aside as the dockworkers carried on without missing a beat.

“No wonder the royal family suddenly shut down the western sea routes.”

“I heard that too. The other neutral countries are just waiting to see which side will come out on top. But honestly, at this point, what’s the point of sitting on the fence? The scale of conscription this time is on a whole other level.”