The Kingdom of Salita

It had long been a land centered around vast grasslands, where cavalry and chariots had developed extensively.

Since these two forces were the most powerful in times of war, Salita was, without a doubt, the strongest nation.

If there had been ‘mages,’ things might have been different, but after the Lucas Lotheidom incident, mages had been thoroughly purged.

In the first place, most mages had already been slaughtered by Lucas himself in a fratricidal war.

Nearly all remaining magic tomes had been burned or torn apart, and the magic towers had been destroyed.

As a result, Salita was now a great empire with four colonial nations, two duchies, and ten allied states bound by mutual defense treaties.

The envoy representing Salita, Count Fitzwilliam, carried himself with a stiff posture as he arrived in Madonia.

Even though the Madonian palace had its own ruler, he walked through the reception hall as if he ranked far above the king himself.

This attitude was deeply ingrained in him. The king of Madonia, sitting upon his golden throne, was so mild-tempered—weak, even—that he despised war.

It was evident from how, years ago, he had been so terrified of war that he had considered surrendering before Salita had even attacked. Even now, his blue eyes shimmered with waves of unease.

Fitzwilliam twisted his lips into a crooked smile.

“Your Majesty of Madonia, this palace is quite decrepit.”

“Is… is that so?”

“Indeed. It is hardly different from the dwellings of commoners. Is Madonia’s treasury truly so impoverished?”

“Watch your words.”

Marquis Prisant, who had been sitting in the reception hall alongside the king to greet the envoy, frowned.

To insult the kingdom’s finances was, in effect, to insult himself as the chancellor overseeing them.

Though Marquis Prisant was not particularly patriotic, his family had historically upheld Madonia’s stability, and his pride was high.

No matter how powerful the envoy’s homeland was, he could not tolerate such contempt.

Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow.

“I merely stated my opinion, Marquis. You are too sensitive. Besides, is it not true that Madonia is far poorer than my homeland, Salita?”

“…Count.”

“Your Majesty.”

At that moment, a voice came from beyond the reception hall doors.

“Oh! Oh! Has the Duke arrived?”

As if a savior had come, the king abruptly stood up. His eyes gleamed like the sea reflecting the sunlight.

Marquis Prisant found the king’s behavior not just embarrassing, but disgraceful.

He wished more than anything for the second prince, Helios, to inherit the throne soon.

Unlike his father, the second prince was the complete opposite in every way.

It was absurd that he possessed both insatiable ambition and unwavering steadfastness, yet he skillfully concealed his burning desire for power beneath a smooth, affable exterior, all the while anchored by a fierce and righteous patriotism.

And the man who firmly supported him was the very one now standing beyond the door.

“…….”

The golden doors opened smoothly, and the duke, a man resembling fire itself, entered the reception hall.

All at once, a chilling air swept through the room, constricting the breath of everyone present.

Marquis Prisant, having spent considerable time with the duke, was accustomed to it and let it pass without much reaction. But most others in the room were not so fortunate.

In fact, the faces of the attendants and knights in the reception hall were beginning to stiffen noticeably.

Fearing that someone might act rashly, Marquis Prisant quickly rose and approached the duke.

“Duke Zeroden, before the king.”

At his quiet whisper, the oppressive aura gradually subsided, though the tension in the room remained heavy.

As the duke removed his cloak and handed it to a servant, his body—like rock twisted from iron—was revealed.

His sharply angled eyes, burning with a crimson glow, resembled those of a hunting hound.

Yet, he was no mere hunting dog—he was a wild beast that no one could ever tame.

‘Ah, perhaps only the duchess could tame him.’

As this trivial thought passed through his mind, the Duke of Zeroden was already standing before the king.

“My arrival was delayed.”

Though he had ascended to godlike mastery in swordsmanship at a young age and had saved an entire nation, he remained humble.

He bowed his head willingly to the king and offered an apology.

“Your Majesty, forgive me for only now hearing of Salita’s envoy’s arrival.”

“No, no, the fault is mine. I regret summoning you while you were spending time with your family… but the Salita delegation insisted that they could not continue discussions without you, Zeroden.”

“…….”

The duke lifted his gaze to look at Fitzwilliam.

Fitzwilliam was momentarily taken aback. The crimson eyes that met his were blazing like fire.

For a brief moment, the envoy felt as if this hall was no different from a battlefield shadowed by death.

—Alex Zeroden is a monster. When crossing swords with him, never let your guard down, understood?

The voice of his sovereign echoed in his mind.

The current king of Salita was hailed as the greatest ruler in history—ambitious and wise.

And this was the very man who had issued such a warning about Duke Zeroden.

Cold sweat trickled down Fitzwilliam’s back, but he forced a smile and spoke.

“Welcome to the palace, Duke.”

But Alex did not return the smile. His expression remained unreadable as he slowly moved his lips.

“…The Count welcomes me? This palace belongs to the King of Madonia. That is quite the peculiar choice of words. Wouldn’t that make you the guest?”

“!!”

“I heard you ‘urged’ His Majesty to summon me. I am most curious—does the envoy of Salita truly possess the authority to hurry along the ruler of another nation?”

Each word was heavy, as though tightening a noose around Fitzwilliam’s neck.

His lips pressed together tightly.

—Fortunately, the duke is just a swordsman. He received no formal education in his youth and only ever wielded a sword. He knows little of governance. If you entangle him with eloquent words, he will inevitably follow your lead.

The king of Salita had once remarked that Duke Zeroden was politically ignorant.

Of course, Fitzwilliam himself had made the same judgment when he had seen the young duke a few years ago. The duke was a knight, not a politician.

The two were clearly different entities, and if one were to ask which of the two posed a greater threat to the opposing nation, Fitzwilliam would, without hesitation, choose the politician.

It is not military power that leads a nation but intelligence.

However, the Duke of Zeroden standing before him now did not seem like an easy opponent. His crimson eyes were as unyielding as solid rock.

‘Did he study political science in just a few short years…?’

But a few years of study wouldn’t change much. Regardless of the atmosphere, Fitzwilliam concluded that Alex was still just a swordsman who only knew how to wield a blade.

“Let’s sit down and talk first, Duke. This is truly an important matter. You will be astonished once you hear it. It concerns the great alliance between Salita and Madonia!”

***

On a night when the stars swirled wildly, the unexpected sound of a horse’s neigh echoed through the air. Having been unable to sleep due to the anxiety caused by the news of Salita’s envoy, Elicity quickly turned her head toward the window.

A royal messenger stood before the gates of the ducal estate.

“Why would the palace send someone? His Grace only entered the palace a few days ago… Could something urgent have happened?”

“My Lady, please calm yourself. I will go out and see.”

Olivia, worried about Elicity’s recent anxious demeanor, hurriedly made her way to the estate’s entrance.

The messenger, who had seemingly rushed over in a hurry, was gasping for breath. Olivia handed him a cool glass of water and quickly retrieved the letter from him.

The devoted maid, thinking only of her mistress, rushed back to Elicity’s chambers and handed her the letter.

“My Lady, here it is.”

“Thank you.”

Elicity took the letter and letter opener from Olivia. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the paper up to the candlelight.

<Elicity, it’s me.
I’m sorry for entering the palace so soon and leaving you behind. You must feel uneasy, alone with Bella.>

Surprisingly, the contents of the letter were different from what she had expected.

Rather, the letter was filled with kind words that seemed to comfort Elicity, as if Alex had read her mind.

<You must also be curious about why Salita’s envoy has come. But rest assured, they will not be able to harm us. I will return soon, so please wait for me with peace of mind.>

Elicity unconsciously smiled as she traced Alex’s rough handwriting.

‘Yes, I have returned to the past. No matter what, I will change things.’

Carefully folding her husband’s letter, she placed it inside her desk drawer and called for Olivia.

“Olivia, I have something for you to do.”

“What is it, My Lady?”

“We must prepare for a victory banquet. It must be lavish and formal above all else. At this banquet, we need to establish connections with noble families who hold firm political influence.”

At this, Olivia looked troubled.

“My Lady, didn’t you say you would abandon the idea of making the young lady queen?”

“I am not strengthening our presence in high society for the sake of making Bella queen.”

“Then…?”

“It’s to protect our family.”

After returning and living as the 28-year-old Duchess once more, she had come to a realization.

In hindsight, the Zeroden Duchy was not strong at all. Rather, it was an easy target.

Although her husband had become a duke, with his adoptive parents—the former Duke and Duchess of Zeroden—now deceased, he had no strong foundation to rely on.

That was why Miss Felberson had been able to mock Elicity so freely the other day.

Of course, in the future, many battles would take place, and Alex would always emerge victorious, steadily gaining more power. Slowly but surely, he would establish a solid base of supporters and secure his place within the noble world.

But until then, he would be alone and exhausted. He would suffer, and at times, he might even want to cry.

Just as she had when she first entered the unfamiliar world of high society as the duchess, enduring the suffocating etiquette and cruel ridicule, suppressing her tears night after night.

So, she wanted to share that pain with her husband.

‘This time, I won’t be foolish enough to simply endure it.’

Elicity’s eyes gleamed with determination.

“Olivia, bring me a pen and paper. There are some ladies I need to invite.”