Chapter 9

The bronze canopy fell from Yanok’s grip, plunging Elise back into the darkness. She scrambled to her knees, gripping the bars of the cart as she listened to the voices outside.

“What are you doing?” Yanok Sihat demanded, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Did the prince forget the oath of the Grandel Northern Alliance?” a gruff voice replied.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” Yanok shot back.

“According to the treaty, when war is declared in the name of the alliance, the prisoners of the defeated country become the property of the conqueror,” the voice explained.

The countries of the Northern Alliance were notorious for their plundering ways, their economies built on pillaging and looting. It seemed that their unethical practices extended to treating prisoners as nothing more than spoils of war.

“To hand over prisoners captured in battle to the Ugels, the permission of the Emperor of Van Yela is required,” said a dry voice that Elise assumed belonged to the archduke. “Until His Majesty approves, the prisoners are considered the property of Van Yela, specifically, my property.”

“So you won’t give them to us?” Yanok asked, his disappointment clear in his tone.

“There is no law to give away my possessions to the North without reason,” the archduke replied, his voice strained. Elise couldn’t shake the feeling that the archduke was struggling to maintain his composure.

“It is regrettable, then,” Yanok sneered.

As the sound of creaking armor and footsteps faded into the distance, Elise breathed a sigh of relief. The knights had obeyed the duke’s orders and successfully pushed Yanok Sihat away. As the wheels of her cage began to roll, signaling their departure, Elise’s grip on the bars relaxed.

Death had retreated for now.

However, the stench of blood lingered, a haunting reminder of the horrors that had taken place in the last day of Argan, when the flames had engulfed the city, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. Elise squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the memories to the back of her mind.

***

Grandel, the sprawling continent, was divided into two distinct regions: the southern lands and the northern territories.

The southern lands, home to the mighty Argan Empire, were lush with fertile plains and warm weather. The northern territories, on the other hand, were comprised mostly of rugged mountains and barren wilderness, and were home to several small kingdoms including Ugel and Van Yela.

In an effort to strengthen their bonds, these northern kingdoms formed the Northern Federation of Grandel, with Van Yela serving as their leader for over two centuries. Ugel, the last kingdom to join the alliance, was founded by nomads who had roamed the central desert for generations.

Despite their late arrival, Ugel quickly became a formidable force, locked in a power struggle with the southern Argan Empire. The Ugelians, a fierce and savage people, coveted the rich lands of the south, with their abundant resources and magical abilities.

But what the Ugelians desired most of all was not land or wealth, but magic itself. And at the center of this desire was Elizabeth Aseica, the twin sister of Aseica III, the last emperor of Argan, and the sole remaining member of Argan’s royal family. Her fate, as well as that of her kingdom, had been sealed a month and a half ago.

As Rezette entered the palace, the emperor greeted him warmly. “Welcome back, Rezette,” he said. “It must have been a long journey to come all the way from the distant province.”

“Yes,” Rezette nodded in response, receiving the emperor’s greeting with a single word. The emperor, accustomed to such behavior, passed over it without a fuss. “How has the Princess been?” he asked. “Has she been rebellious?”

“She has been behaving normally,” Rezette replied.

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. “I thought the daughter of a noble Arganian family would have killed herself already,” he said. “Seeing that she has come this far, it seems that she has a different motive…”

Is that so? Rezette listened to the Emperor’s words, nodding absently as he lost himself in thought. There was no denying that something was amiss. For nearly two months, she had stuck to his side and watched him closely, but the princess had not shown any other suspicious behavior aside from relying on him excessively.

“The Ugel Kingdom has demanded that we hand the princess over to them,” said the emperor. “They’ve even threatened to cut off her head if we don’t comply. We usually just ignore their demands, but this time it seems like it might be difficult.”

“Her head?” Rezette asked, looking startled.

“Yes. They want to keep it as a trophy,” the emperor replied.

Regent’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the princess’s head. He had expected the worst—poison, or at least a form of punishment that left minimal visible scars on the body. But the prince saying he would personally cut off her head, and keep it as a trophy… it was a repulsive behavior that seemed to only mock Argan.

“Who are those savages…,” he muttered.

“What was that?” the emperor asked.

“Nothing,” Rezette said, shaking his head. The emperor narrowed his eyes, Rezette was not the type to avoid a question like this.

“So you agreed to their demands?”

“As the last princess of Argan, how can we just let her be slaughtered by barbarians? We’ve agreed to their terms of beheading her in the town square and handing over her corpse.”

Whether that could truly be called an agreement was questionable.

“When is the execution scheduled to take place?” asked Rezette.

“Five days from now,” the emperor replied.

Five days. That was a longer reprieve than he had expected. He couldn’t help but think of the princess, who had been firmly by his side since they crossed the border.

The emperor clicked his tongue.

“To think that the Argan of the world would collapse in just two years… Tsk. If the young emperor hadn’t been unnecessarily stubborn, he would have been able to endure one or two more generations. He just had to scratch his useless pride. If it were me, I would have humbly begged for help.”

“The princess of Argan,” he continued, “ultimately the last royal surviving all alone in that vortex. She was known throughout the continent from the time of Empress Aseica’s reign, but this year how old is she?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Twenty two,” muttered the emperor. “Not too young to die.” Rezette did not know Elizabeth’s exact age. However, he guessed that since the emperor was nineteen three years ago, his twin sister must have been nineteen then, and twenty-two now.

Twenty-two. Isn’t twenty-two too young for the princess whom Grandel respected and Argan loved to die? 

Rezette, lost in thought, missed the emperor’s summon. The shrewd emperor of Van Yela, Noyer, noticed the lapse in attention immediately. “Rezette, why are you thinking of something else in front of me?” Noyer inquired.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything else,” Rezette responded, trying to cover up his mistake.

“My wife is very honest,” Noyer continued. “That’s why it’s so noticeable when she tells a lie. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t know,” Rezette replied, feeling guilty for his own deceit.

“So, what happened between you and the princess on the way here?” Noyer asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Nothing happened,” Rezette said quickly, hoping to divert the conversation.

But as he spoke, an image of the princess flashed through his mind—the moonlight catching on her shimmering skin as they stood under a cascading waterfall, her golden eyes fixed intently on him, her silver hair flowing over her pale skin. And the curves of her slender frame, hidden beneath her clothing… Stop it.

Rezette replied calmly, “There was nothing.”

He was well aware that lying would get him into trouble, but he also knew how to tell a lie without being caught. If he had been caught every time he lied, he would not have been able to maintain his position.

Noyer’s eyes narrowed as he studied his younger brother. However, he couldn’t detect any sign of deception from Rezette this time.

“Well, in any case, go back and rest. You’ve been on the road for almost a year now. Even someone as strong as you needs a break.”

“Yes, I’ll go now,” Rezette said, bowing before taking his leave.

“And while you’re at it, take a look at that list of names piled up on your desk. You’re already thirty years old. Even if you’ve made a name for yourself, you should be thinking about producing an heir. How long do you plan on making me wait?” Noyer asked, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

Rezette couldn’t hide her boredom at the conversation. Again. Her husband’s obsession with having an heir, her own responsibility to produce one.

“Do you not know why I have placed you in your current position, Rezette?” Noyer asked. Rezette didn’t respond. “Do you not know why I gave you the newly conquered territory of Rotiara and the title of duke?”

Of course he knew. The name itself was given to him by Noyer. Noyer had wanted the name Rezette to be the start of a dynasty that would last for generations. In other words, he wanted to create a clan made up solely of dragons like Rezette—dragons with extraordinary abilities that surpassed the limits of humans.

These beings were not quite dragon nor human, but rather a freakish hybrid with reduced intelligence and ferocious demeanor. Such creatures were not tamed by humans, and were typically slain upon sight. Or, if they were lucky, captured and made to fight in gladiatorial games.

However, in the rarest of cases, these hybrids were born with stunning dragon forms and extraordinary hair that marked them as almost divine. Dragons with human characteristics—Rezette was one such exceptional being.

Thus, Rezette Kyrstan could be considered a purebred dragon, a rare and coveted breed that only emerges every few hundred years. His bloodline had to be maintained at all costs.

But if that were such a simple task, then why have there been so few dragons who have proven themselves to be as extraordinary as Rezette?