After riding without rest for ten full days, by horse and carriage, the first stronghold they reached was the territory of Aselda.

Like the Grand Territory of Regel, which had been designated for the people of the Rotermann Kingdom, Aselda was also one of the lands owned by the Empire. It did not possess as many advantages as Regel, yet a massive rocky mountain rose along its southern edge, granting the territory significant defensive strength against invasion.

Clodine lifted her gaze toward the towering crags. Even at a glance, the mountain range looked harsh and unforgiving.

During the final two days of their journey here, they had slept upon ground littered with nothing but streams and stone.

It was hardly an environment in which flora and fauna thrived. Naturally, she worried how people were meant to build new lives here.

Fortunately, she had heard that the central region of the territory, where people actually resided, contained arable land, and that several active trade districts lay nearby. The commercial prospects were said to be respectable.

Still, she would not feel at ease until she saw it with her own eyes.

In its prime, Aselda had been a walled city. A boundary of stacked stone walls clearly divided it from its surroundings. Because this was their first destination, Clodine had felt a quiet tension.

Yet the atmosphere was not as dire as she had feared. Countless people had gathered near the fortress walls to greet the procession.

“They are the people of the Kingdom of Tylutan.”

Clodine turned her head at the voice that had drawn near her horse.

Walking alongside her was Hyles Matheier, Commander of the Pantheon Knights. Tall, with an unpolished yet sturdy appearance, he was also known whether in fame or infamy as the immortal red-haired executioner with crimson eyes.

Behind Ahazan, Clodine rode beside Hyles as they advanced toward the gates.

“Tylutan… the so-called ‘Land of Heroes’?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. You are well informed.”

Despite the brutal reputation attached to his name, Hyles smiled easily and nodded toward a man standing at the forefront of the gathered citizens.

“The man with the white beard there he was the Prime Minister of Tylutan. Harbat Kesen.”

“The Prime Minister? Then that means…”

Clodine did not finish her sentence, instead casting him a questioning look.

Hyles nodded.

“The king was slain in battle against His Majesty.”

He then began explaining how formidable Tylutan had been in the recent war.

Though the Empire had possessed overwhelmingly greater numbers, Tylutan had boasted far more warriors capable of defeating a hundred men alone. The war between them had dragged on for five long years.

In the end, the Empire secured victory but Tylutan had fought honorably to the very last. Their defeat had not been craven nor disgraceful.

“King Risius was truly extraordinary. A descendant of the giant race he stood well over nine cheok tall.”

“Over nine cheok?”

Clodine’s eyes widened in astonishment, and seeing her captivated, Hyles continued enthusiastically.

“He was also a master of spear and blade. There was scarcely a spearman on the continent who could rival him. Why, even His Majesty was once struck through the waist by that spear and lingered for days at death’s door—”

“Hyles Matheier.”

Ahazan’s stern voice cut sharply from the front, halting him mid-sentence.

Though he rode some distance ahead, it seemed Ahazan had heard every word.

Hyles quickly urged his horse forward to his side.

From where she rode, Clodine could not catch what they said next. She only saw Hyles scratch the back of his head with an embarrassed grin, as though receiving a reprimand.

For a moment, Clodine replayed what she had just heard.

‘Even His Majesty was struck through the waist by that spear and lingered for days at death’s door…’

She had not misheard.

“So Ahazan once nearly died in battle…”

She murmured the words under her breath.

She wished to know the rest, yet the chance had slipped away. Falling silent, she lowered her gaze and continued guiding her horse toward the gates.

Before long, the vast procession led by Ahazan arrived at the entrance where the people of Tylutan stood gathered in tight formation.

“I am Harbat Kesen. I greet His Majesty the Emperor and Her Majesty the Empress of the Van Helsing Empire.”

The white-haired man bowed deeply.

Compared to the wary tension she had seen among the people of Rotermann, his demeanor was almost welcoming. Yet behind him, many of the kingdom’s citizens still wore expressions of fear as though the war had not yet ended.

“It has been some time, Prime Minister.”

Ahazan dismounted first, then turned to steady Clodine as she carefully stepped down.

Harbat gestured toward one of his subordinates, who hurried forward, bowed, and led their horses away to the stables.

“Please address me simply by name.”

He added the correction belatedly, meeting Ahazan’s eyes without visible emotion.

There was no trace of regret in his tone as though he had long since abandoned attachment to the fallen kingdom.

“Very well. That would be best, Kesen.”

Ahazan replied with an easy smile, showing not the slightest hint of apology.

No matter how one viewed it, the Empire had not been the side to incite rebellion and begin the war.

Though it was the Empire that ultimately seized victory and brought several kingdoms to ruin, one fact had to be made clear there was no position in which they ought to feel remorse or offer apology.

“I shall show you to your quarters.”

Though human beings were creatures easily stirred by emotion, and resentment would not have been unreasonable, Harbat Kesen maintained an expression free of grievance as he attended the Emperor and Empress.

The atmosphere surrounding them remained cool, but if it could not be called good, it was at least not a poor beginning.

***

The people of Tylutan appeared to have worked diligently to restore what had once been a decaying ruin of a town, shaping it into a place fit for habitation. Compared to the people of Rotermann who were only just beginning to accept their reality and form plans Tylutan’s progress was strikingly swift.

The castle where Ahazan and Clodine were to stay, however, bore the unmistakable signs of recent hasty preparation. It seemed someone had rushed to refurbish it upon hearing of the Empire’s visit.

Like the territory itself, the castle stood without a master. One might have assumed someone had agreed to reside there, yet even Harbat Kesen once holder of the highest rank in the kingdom lived in the village. It appeared unlikely that the castle would find an owner anytime soon.

After ten days of sleeping in shifting lodgings without settling anywhere, even a worn and aging castle felt welcome.

It could not compare to Count Helario Ramier’s residence in the capital but Clodine felt only gratitude.

“It is somewhat dim, but you should use this chamber, Clodine. It occupies the safest position. Rest without concern.”

Ahazan stepped inside first and drew aside the curtain that veiled the window. Dust layered upon the fabric scattered into the sunlight, filling the air around him with glimmering particles.

Clodine closed the door behind her and approached him quietly.

He stood by the window, surveying the castle grounds below, his gaze sharp as he assessed the placement of imperial soldiers stationed throughout.

“Ahazan.”

She waited for him to turn, but when he did not, she softly called his name.

He immediately faced her.

Lowering the hood of her outer cloak, Clodine revealed her face fully and met his eyes.

“About the scar on your waist…”

Even as she spoke, the image of it surfaced vividly in her mind.

During the nights they had spent together, she had seen his body clearly. It bore too many scars to count. Yet among them all, one stood out etched deeply along his right side.

She had often wondered about its origin, yet had avoided asking, fearing the answer.

But after hearing Hyles’s unexpected account earlier, she felt she must ask.

Fidgeting with her hands gathered beneath her chest, she chose her words carefully.

“Was it a severe wound you suffered in the war?”

In truth, she wanted to ask whether it had hurt terribly. Whether, as Hyles claimed, he had nearly lost his life because of it.

But the words lodged in her throat.

It seemed such a simple question even a stranger could ask it without difficulty. Yet she did not understand why she felt so tense.

When no answer came for several moments, she began to regret having opened the subject at all.

“It is not something that concerns you.”

Ahazan’s reply came cold.

Colder still was the gaze with which he looked directly into her eyes.

“Nothing good would come of revisiting it for either of us.”