“…Dictys. The gods do not listen to human prayers.”

A calm voice broke through the silence. Achilleon walked into the darkness. His face remained cold and unmoved as he whispered the name of his brother who lay sleeping in the Hall of Rest.

“It’s the same even if you pray day and night. What could a child offer as sacrifice? On that immortal night when the white star appeared. I offered the best game I could catch to the goddess Igrito, begging her to save you.”

Achilleon placed his hand on the stone door after slowly opening and closing his eyes.

“…You even praised me. Said the rabbit I caught when I was six was the biggest. I offered that. But all I got in return was indifference. If Igrito, that woman, had looked upon me just once, if she had taken your hand…”

Unlike his increasingly cracking voice, his expression remained unwavering.

“You wouldn’t have died such a miserable death.”

The light seeping from the wall sconces cast dark shadows across Achilleon’s eyes. It was when he turned his head away, unable to bear looking at that suffocating coffin any longer, that the familiar face of a young boy overlapped with the glass case.

‘Achilleon, happy sixth birthday. Here. This is my gift! To bring down the iron fortress of the enemy country, a wise general devised a plan. This wooden horse led to victory in that ten-year-long war. Isn’t it amazing?’

First Prince Dictys was the crown prince deeply loved by Queen Tiltia and a caring brother. He carved a large wooden horse for young Achilleon to ride and play with, and passed down his own spear. He would even press lemon candies into Achilleon’s hand, though Achilleon never asked for them.

‘This is a magical lemon candy sprinkled with turmeric powder. Achilleon, do you know how they use turmeric in far eastern countries? They say they smear burned turmeric powder on monks’ robes to ward off evil spirits. So if you eat this, you’ll be able to shake off your cold and get up quickly too. You’ll become strong like your brother.’

That was his memory of Dictys. Perhaps it was because of their large age gap, or perhaps because he couldn’t grow attached to Antor due to the invisible check he received from him even then. Dictys took careful care of Achilleon. Of course, Achilleon didn’t welcome such care, but he had no particular reason to throw away the wooden horse and lemon candies given to him. Whether it was due to the medicinal turmeric’s effects or not, Achilleon never caught a cold after eating those candies. Dictys would proudly joke to Achilleon, who grew up healthier than anyone, saying “See?”

‘No one will be able to harm you now. Unless they pierce a hole in your heel through your shoe, that is. The lemon candy I gave you will protect you.’

He couldn’t argue back despite how absurd it was, because of that playful smile.

He was a warrior with potential, and an odd boy who believed in the superstition of lemon candies.

Such a Dictys suddenly passed away seven years ago. The cause was a fall from his horse during the hunting ceremony. His horse, startled by a sudden beast attack, threw Dictys off and bolted. Before completely losing consciousness from his severe injuries, Dictys grabbed Achilleon’s hand and said:

‘It’s not Aron’s fault.’

Aron, the horse Dictys had cherished and raised, fell off a cliff, and its body was never found. The incident was concluded as an accident. And Dictys, after struggling between life and death for three days, finally breathed his last.

Was it really an accident? Achilleon couldn’t agree. He should have told them about seeing Antor’s man secretly leaving Dictys’s stable. However, his nurse Huliya stopped Achilleon.

‘You must keep it hidden, Your Highness. Otherwise, your life will be in danger too.’

Sensing a chilling premonition, Achilleon kept his mouth shut. He remained forever silent, letting the incident sink into mystery and the truth drown in the swamp.

Creeak. As Achilleon opened the stone door and entered the Hall of Rest, he discovered a familiar figure in the darkness. As expected, that man was also occupying a place beside the coffin.

“So you’ve come, Achilleon.”

The dark figure stirred and raised his upper body. It was Antor, shedding crocodile tears while visiting the coffin of his brother who had been forever frozen at seventeen.

A scornful laugh escaped Achilleon’s lips.

“How could I forget the death anniversary of my precious brother?”

See, Dictys? The wicked live on even after committing their crimes. A snake who lives in luxury after trampling on someone as good as you.

However, such a character might be the one who best matches the bloodline of Hitais. While Dictys was a caring brother, he was also soft enough to be caught completely off guard, unable to let go of his trust even while knowing that plots to harm him were lurking.

Achilleon was different. The goddess Igrito cannot save them from the beast’s enclosure stained with blood and filth. However, he sometimes thought that perhaps it was also the goddess’s providence that Dictys departed early, before seeing even more disgraceful sights. Achilleon doesn’t believe in gods. He believed in no one but himself.

His lips curved with cynicism. The priests who hold insane festivals while worshipping a god who may or may not exist, the nobles who only cling to god’s hem when they’re in need, the royal family who use religion for power yet possess not a trace of true faith when you look closely. While it didn’t matter either way, that woman was certainly a disturbing presence.

Margharita Aurel Nualia, the princess of Lagonia who absolutely worships Igrito. The woman’s red eyes, resembling the goddess, irritated his nerves. Her unreadable, indifferent gaze was annoying, and yet he found himself absurd when he caught himself chasing after her afterimage. Because Margharita bore such a strong resemblance to the god he hated.

“We must never repeat an accident like that again. Even now, after all this time, brother’s incident brings tears to my eyes.”

Antor hung his head. His reddened eyes, as though he were truly heartbroken, were disgusting.

“Since brother’s accident, I’ve always approached the hunting ceremony with caution. How fortunate that we got through this year without a major incident, thanks to your contribution.”

Antor lowered his sleeve and stared intently at his younger brother with reddened eyes. His bright blue eyes piercing through the darkness were bone dry.

“Our departed eldest brother would be pleased to see how impeccably you’ve grown. However, if I may offer one piece of friendly advice, don’t mistreat those who have long stood by your side. Is it right to treat Selina, the woman who will be your wife, so coldly?”

A large hand firmly patted Achilleon’s shoulder. The hand that killed his blood brother. The next target of this person, who doesn’t even blink at seeing his brother’s corpse in the coffin, would surely be Achilleon’s life.

“She’s a devoted woman who has loved you unrequitedly for ten years. Could such feelings come from ordinary passion? Wouldn’t it be better to finally consider and accept the feelings of Miss Karnos, who loves you so deeply?”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’d like to enjoy my freedom a while longer.”

Achilleon conveyed his rejection with an answer that might sound dissolute. His face, covered with a gentle smile, wasn’t as perfect as usual. Since it had always been this way with matters related to Dictys, there was nothing particularly new about it. Compared to that, how perfect had Margharita’s acting been.

“Papa!”

Once again, the woman’s face that had invaded his thoughts scattered with a burst of bright laughter. Antor spread his arms wide toward a small girl who came limping from the entrance. He lifted her high with a broad smile.

“Where is this?”

“This is the royal tomb. I made my marriage vows with your mother in this temple. Holding your mother’s hand, papa made an earnest wish.”

“What wish?”

“Well, I wished for my beloved Anasha’s two legs to be healthy, for your mother to be happy. But Anasha, hasn’t papa told you many times? I believe I warned you not to wander outside the palace carelessly.”

Speaking thus, Antor cast an unpleasant glance at his wife. It was Second Princess Consort Madalena. The woman quickly approached and took the child.

“…I apologize, Your Highness. She said she missed her father so much that we dared to come despite the impropriety.”

“That’s enough, go back now. Anasha, if you keep your promise not to leave the palace without permission, papa will come visit during dinner.”

“Wow, yes! Anasha won’t leave her room without papa’s permission. So make sure to have dinner together, okay?”

Achilleon turned away, leaving behind Antor’s nonsensical chatter to his daughter. He would have to postpone his greetings to Dictys. Madalena, who had been quietly waiting at the entrance, slightly bowed her head toward Achilleon as he passed by.

A foreign princess consort sold through marriage politics. Her lame daughter. The treatment of the mother and daughter in the royal palace was painfully obvious.

“I hope to have the chance to greet Your Highness’s guest.”

Achilleon hesitated at the Second Princess Consort’s unexpected suggestion. The woman’s pitch-black eyes, always quiet and unobtrusive, were fixed steadily on him.