As they approached the border, a cold wind began to blow. By the time the sound of the fluttering flags made his ears ring, one of the envoys he had sent ahead came galloping toward him. The sound of hooves came to an abrupt halt, and the man tightened his reins.

“There are no unusual signs.”

“Of course not.”

Callius spoke as if he had expected that response.

Despite being aware of the periodic skirmishes with the Dorel tribe that occurred around this time, Sam Huon, one of Callius’s few subordinates, tilted his head.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“They don’t have time for such petty sword fights right now.”

“Sorry, what?”

“There’s always a reason.”

Before Sam could ask again, Callius pulled on the reins and took off. Sam didn’t even have the chance to deliver the rest of his report.

Normally, around this time of year, the Dorel tribe would migrate south in search of new settlements. As such, clashes near the border were inevitable.

This year should have been no different. There was no reason for them not to head south in search of food.

Unless there was a problem greater than the issue of survival.

But as far as Sam Huon could think, nothing was more important than survival.

Perhaps the Dorel tribe had finally grown fearful of the reputation of their knights, he thought.

“Does this mean these tiresome battles are finally coming to an end?”

That hopeful thought quickly crumbled into ashes.

If that were the case, Callius Maxis wouldn’t be wearing such an utterly exhausted expression.

—

After circling the border, repairing the watchtowers, and digging into the ground beyond the border to check for any undiscovered tunnels, they carried out their inspections.

The Dorel tribe’s methods grew increasingly unpredictable with each passing year.

Even after repeated checks, they couldn’t let their guard down.

Yet something felt off this time.

The Dorel tribe showed no signs of moving south.

“What are they scheming? There’s no way they suddenly have an abundance of food up north.”

“There’s a forest to the northwest.”

“The birch forest?”

“Check it out. If you find anything unusual, don’t approach—just return.”

The temporary quarters beneath the watchtower were shabby but sufficient to keep out the cold.

The door rattled as if it might be torn off by the wind.

The occasional draft caused the candlelight to flicker uneasily, casting restless shadows.

“What do you think might be wrong?”

“We’ll find out when we get there.”

Callius’s behavior was suspicious today. He gave the impression of knowing something but deliberately withholding it.

“You’re acting strange today.”

“What do you mean?”

When Callius snapped irritably, furrowing his brows, it made him seem more like his usual self, but Sam shrugged.

“Is your married life not going well?”

Sam Huon’s words were half-serious and half-joking. But the joke leaned closer to the truth.

Before heading to the capital for the marriage, Callius had looked like a beast being dragged to the slaughterhouse.

And yet, somehow…

The man who returned was completely different.

The unyielding energy that had never wavered even after countless battlefields had softened.

No, it wasn’t just softened—it had become sharp, like the horn of a bull.

This made him more dangerous than before, but also more precarious.

“Callius Maxis, precarious? That’s absurd.”

It was unthinkable.

Sam was one of the few who had witnessed Callius win jousting tournaments and declare himself the Emperor’s hound.

Even as a mercenary, Callius had been different from others.

His skills were exceptional, but what truly set him apart was his ambition.

While other mercenaries dreamed of nothing more than becoming rich or becoming guild masters, Callius wanted power.

[I should at least secure a seat next to the Emperor.]

[Ha! If you’re going to go through all that, you might as well aim to become the Emperor yourself.]

[Well, that would mean marrying the princess, and I don’t like her.]

[You’re picky about who you’d marry, too?]

His dreams were far too audacious.

[I’ll marry someone I love.]

At the time, Sam had been so dumbfounded that he couldn’t respond.

Callius’s expression had been so sincere when he said it.

But the marriage arranged by the Crown Prince was far from the one Callius had wanted.

Was that why he looked so grim now?

But the Callius Maxis Sam knew wasn’t the type to sulk silently. If anything, he’d yell in anger.

“What would you know? You’re not even married.”

His tastes, still stuck in his mercenary days, allowed him to drink low-quality beer like water.

Sam watched his Adam’s apple bob roughly as he gulped down the beer.

“Didn’t you say this wasn’t even a real marriage?”

Callius furrowed his brows as if he didn’t remember saying that, then gave a small laugh as if he finally recalled.

Sam grew increasingly uneasy as time passed. Seeing Callius so drained was a first.

It made him reconsider just how important marrying someone he loved was to Callius.

Was that why he seemed so disappointed now?

“Well, even if I’m not married, I know enough. If you don’t like your wife, just get a mistress.”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

Sam let out a startled laugh, not expecting to be silenced so abruptly when he was only trying to cheer him up.

“Stop talking about my marriage. It’s already hard enough as it is.”

Low-quality beer wasn’t enough to get him drunk.

After downing another cup of the undrinkable beer, Callius slammed the cup down.

Sam, terrible at offering comfort, decided it was for the best and changed the subject.

“Fine. Anyway, did you hear this? There’s a rumor among the Dorel tribe about some spring around here. They say it’s sacred, and if you go there, your deepest wish will come true. Those Dorel folks are experts at making up superstitions.”

“It could be real.”

“What? Did you eat something bad?”

Sam’s shock mixed informal and formal speech into a strange sentence.

Callius, who usually criticized the Dorel tribe’s obsession with superstitions, had once said their blind faith would lead to their ruin.

The Dorel tribe valued their superstitions so much that they sometimes prioritized them over their survival.

“A wish-granting spring? That’s ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous.”

Though only a few beers couldn’t possibly make him drunk, Callius murmured like an intoxicated man.

“Sacred, my as$…”

Today, Callius was acting strange.

Could marriage have done this to him?

What was it about marriage?

Sam, who had never dreamed of marrying someone he loved, felt like he was already divorced before even getting married.

—

The next day, as per Callius’s orders, Sam went to check the birch forest.

There, he found traces of what seemed like a festival from the previous night.

The ground was scorched in various places, and a strange burnt smell lingered in the air.

Whatever had happened, it was clear the Dorel tribe had been there.

It didn’t seem like all the thousands of Dorel tribe members had gathered, but Sam, unfamiliar with their social structure, couldn’t make sense of it.

“This year, they won’t be heading south. Let’s go back.”

For some reason, Callius made this declaration and left the border without hesitation.

Left behind to clean up, Sam tried to make sense of Callius’s actions but eventually gave up.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure it out.

Giving up, Sam finished the cleanup before it got too late.

He left the border only after the sun had long set.

—

Having departed the border earlier, Callius set foot in Siscreek.

Callius, who had left Siscreek with a small group, returned with even fewer people than when he had left.

As he crossed the drawbridge and entered the castle, he saw Nora waiting to greet him from a distance.

Nora rarely missed the chance to see him off or welcome him back.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Standing next to her was his wife.

Callius briefly wondered what thoughts she might have as she stood beside Nora.

Her unwavering, upright gaze met his. Her dense eyelashes concealed her emotions.

Her thin frame looked no different from when he had left.

If a few days had been enough to make her healthy, she wouldn’t have been sick in the first place.

He averted his gaze from her.

As he dismounted, Nora approached and took the reins.

“You’ve returned quickly, My Lord.”

Leticia spoke awkwardly as she looked up at him. Quickly? If anything, he had returned later than usual.

He had promised three days but returned to Siscreek after five.

Was she subtly criticizing him for being two days late without notice?

But her expression didn’t seem like that.

If it were Nora, she would have hit him on the back rather than nervously shifting her gaze.

“Shall we have dinner together?”

So when his wife suggested dinner, it didn’t sound like she was merely inviting him to eat.