“Selina?”

“She’s the crown princess-designate who got engaged to Lord Achilleon when they were fifteen. Given that it’s still just an engagement even though they’re well past coming of age, there must be some issue. Anyway, Selina will marry the Third Prince sooner or later… Show me a woman who’d be happy when her husband brings home a concubine.”

Ipea pointed towards the south. The palace’s large silver dome ceiling sparkled like fish scales in the sunlight.

“That’s Dawn Palace where Lady Selina resides.”

It wasn’t far from Achilleon’s palace. However, a solid wall divided their territories as if marking their separate domains.

Dong, dong-

When the bell rang, Ipea hurriedly disappeared saying she had to go.

Left alone, Hari stood still under the shadow of the massive wall.

Escape. She had always wondered about the world beyond this wall. The world outside Galate’s royal palace, the horizon stained with sunset colors seen from the tower.

The times when she was raised with love rather than hatred and contempt felt distant. Her mother lost her mind from the shock of the king’s merciless massacre and couldn’t care for Hari. The young Hari, who grew up neglected, had neither the courage nor strength to break down the fence herself.

‘But I was young then. Now it’s different.’

The moment she placed her hand on the white wall. The moment she realized that wall wasn’t a simple brick but a white mineral that radiated rainbow colors like the inside of a seashell, a piercing headache struck Hari.

“…!”

Hari stumbled and collapsed onto the grass. Sweat poured like rain.

It was then that she heard a faint voice as she gasped helplessly like a fish pulled onto land.

‘Run away.’

‘…Run away.’

“Grandmother…?”

Her mind grew hazy like when they had forced medicine into her. Hari’s world soon went dark as she gasped, clawing at the grass.

* * *

“It’s a good harvest this year too. The grape and olive yields in the south have tripled. Even those troublesome pirates have been quiet, surely the gods are celebrating Hitais’s victory. It’s an auspicious sign for the country.”

The conversation between the two princes and Chief Minister Egoto as they walked along the path to the main palace melted into the peaceful summer air.

Hitais holds a grand ritual ceremony as a national event every year. This year it would be significantly larger to commemorate the victory, which is why the Chief Minister, who oversees the festival, had gathered them together.

“We can expect good propaganda effects as well.”

Egoto glanced between the two princes with a meaningful smile. Though he acted like a solemn representative of the gods, he was an old man calculating and worldly to the bone. That was Achilleon’s assessment of Egoto. The embezzled donations and bribes he’d taken from officials could build two palaces.

The cunning old man maintained superficial neutrality between the two princes. He secured his position by flattering the king and maintaining an amicable attitude toward both princes of Hitais. Achilleon could readily give high marks to such bat-like behavior.

“Especially since this ritual will be led by the heroic Third Prince, won’t it gather even more people’s expectations?”

Joy at the prospect of receiving more donations than usual overflowed across Egoto’s face.

“Particularly, many foreign royals seek seeds of the sacred fruit.”

The divine fruit taken by the black serpent Radamut. That red and luscious fruit that grows only in the Hitais royal garden was like a symbol of prosperity.

“They blame their inadequacies on some fruit and whine about it, that’s why they never progress.”

“Isn’t it to our advantage when the King of Tages offers his preciously raised daughter just to get some scraps from a powerful nation?”

The Chief Minister quickly agreed with the Second Prince’s cynical remark.

“Moreover, you received massive treasures and trading rights to various sea routes. The donations you graciously offered are being used effectively for the institution’s development. We can only be grateful for Lord Antor’s infinite grace.”

“Such expenditure is only natural. What else would you expect from the temple?”

“Princess Madalena must be overjoyed after giving birth to a lovely princess.”

“…Well. To call ‘that’ a joy is… Well, even if her limbs aren’t perfect, she takes after Madalena so her face is decent enough. Just a five-year-old after all.”

Achilleon thought it was a nauseating conversation. While the tedious time passed with eager flattery and acceptance, he walked toward the main palace’s path with unwavering steps. Though the Third Prince Achilleon might be considered lowest in rank among them, his face, armed with arrogance, carried more dignity befitting the heir that the king desired than anyone else.

“…”

Antor’s expression hardened as he read the strange undercurrent among the servants. The object of their attention and careful observation was neither the Second Prince nor the Chief Minister, but Achilleon. Antor raised his hand to stop the Chief Minister’s noisy chatter.

“Let’s stop this useless talk. By the way…”

His gaze, moving alertly like seeking prey, turned toward the palace orchard.

“Don’t you think so too, Achilleon? There’s a joke that a single seed of the sacred fruit trades for the price of a diamond in the black market. Isn’t it ridiculous that the very heads of royal families are the ones throwing money away, bewitched by the absurd superstition that the sacred fruit will bring prosperity to their country? What’s so special about that fruit? Though you seemed particularly fond of it since childhood.”

His eyes, curved kindly, were pitch black with unconcealed jealousy.

“You speak truly, brother.”

Achilleon’s smooth response showed no different expression. Brothers bound by trust and affection. That was the mask worn by these two men who were openly political rivals. Achilleon’s face was dark against the light as he turned to stare at his greedy brother.

“Hitais could grow this much thanks to none other than the generals and excellent soldiers who led us to victory in war. The spoils from the Oinox naval battle were a great help in paying off the debt from failed national policies.”

Antor clenched his fist at the blatant emphasis on his own achievements.

“…I cannot deny your contributions.”

It was true that Antor had incurred massive debt while pushing forward with projects on behalf of their father. It was also true that the enormous debt was being paid off through the disposal of war spoils. Antor forced a smile. He couldn’t lose his image as a benevolent and wise ruler over a moment of anger.

The Chief Minister, rolling his eyes in the strange atmosphere, awkwardly cleared his throat. As the intense tension subsided, the two brothers finally regained their gentle smiles. As if nothing had happened.

When the conversation between the Chief Minister and Antor resumed, Achilleon suddenly looked back. The temple wall they had just left was carved with a black serpent wrapped around the world tree Igrito and bright red fruit. The only thing that caught his interest in this useless conversation was the sacred fruit that Antor had dismissed.

Why did everyone want to become the owner of that fruit so badly? Antor was someone who knew one thing but not two.

The superstition, inflated over long years, had established itself like the faith of Rhodes. The country that possessed the fruit would rise as the new leader, and conversely, no matter how wealthy, those without it would be ostracized for being forsaken by the gods and eventually perish.

‘Indeed, isn’t it the gods’ dirty scheme?’

However, Achilleon was willing to follow that providence. Crushing the Second Prince, removing the king who couldn’t give up women even in his old age, and seizing the sacred fruit hidden in the deep garden, the throne of Hitais, that sweet power.

It was the destiny he had set for himself.

“What’s that?”

“There’s a woman lying there.”

Antor’s sharp voice pierced his ear. Achilleon turned his head to look at the woman surrounded by bright yellow flowers. The deep tree shadows were darkening the unconscious collapsed woman.

“Achilleon, isn’t that your servant?”

* * *

When Hari opened her eyes, drenched in cold sweat, the first thing that came into her view was the grayish-white ceiling.

Achromatic wool wallpaper and rugs, furniture made of cleanly cut marble. Though the room was dark, it was enough to guess its splendor.

‘What happened? Why.’

Why am I in such a place?

The question was easily answered.

“Margharita. What were you doing there?”

Hari met the piercing green eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. Though she didn’t want to cower, meeting his gaze made her feel like prey thrown before a beast.

“There have been slaves like you lurking around the wall before. They attempted to escape, and some had their ankles cut off.”

“That… that wasn’t my intention.”

Hari hurriedly sat up and shook her head.

“…Where is this?”

“My room.”

Achilleon sat down in the chair beside the bed. Each time he moved, his belt’s sharp metal and scabbard made a clinking sound.

“I despise those who don’t know their place. Breaking the limbs of escaped slaves is my job, cutting off the wrists of thieving slaves, burning the tongues of liars, all my job.”