1. The Return of the Sun
Beneath the blue sky and the blazing sun, an army of ants-like soldiers was marching home in triumph. At the return of the black-clad army, the people all erupted in cheers.
Here, Lu-Ravda had returned!
The border dispute with Asalla, dragged out ineffectually for roughly a hundred years across three generations, came to an end in just three years with the appearance of Crown Prince Asherad.
A young man of twenty-three. The emperor's son, who had shown no particular distinction in matters of war, carved his image firmly into people's minds with his achievements in this campaign alone.
Amid the cheering crowd, Daphne wore a cold smile.
Though she ought to flee as quickly as possible, she could not say why she was standing here.
Hidden among fools who didn't even understand why that army was marching home in black garb, Daphne gazed at the man at the very front.
Lu-Ravda, god of the sun and war.
As his army seized victory after victory, the people had taken to calling him that.
Despite daring to be likened to the name of a god, his appearance was not lacking.
When he removed his helm, lustrous black hair was revealed, fluttering coolly with each movement of his horse.
His coolly sharp nose was visible even from afar, like a sculpted statue, and his sharp, pale green falcon eyes gazed down at the people with an indifferent, at times imperiously languid, gaze.
His appearance in a full suit of plate armor seemed to prove that he had returned in haste. On the gleaming armor remained ominous traces of blood.
His already large frame, clad in armor, looked all the more imposing. And the people seemed to feel an even greater awe at the sight.
Unlike his figure, which seemed to contain the sun itself, a cloak engraved with the emblem of the Peneus Empire billowed on his back.
Emperor Belenus had passed away.
But a new sun had returned solidly before them, and so they felt neither the grief of having lost the empire's sun nor any fear of a situation that seemed likely to waver for some time.
Even the knights and soldiers marching in triumph—were they not overflowing with pride, without a trace of somberness? The people welcomed Lu-Ravda, Asherad, who had gone from crown prince to new emperor.
Daphne stared at him as if bewitched. The eyes that had slaughtered on the battlefield had grown deeper, the lines of his face sharper.
The man who had once carried an air of elegance now stood at the vanguard, solid as a war god, in this very moment.
There had been a time when seeing that figure had made her happy. But now, that figure was repulsive to her.
She had seen his face, and that was enough. There was no time now. Just as she was about to turn away, she had the illusion that her eyes met those of the man waving his hand.
But when she looked at Asherad again, he was facing forward, waving to those who had come to support him.
Then her pounding heart resumed its easy rhythm. She was dressed as a man right now, and wearing a hat that covered her hair—he couldn't possibly recognize her.
In truth, it wasn't something that required such desperate haste. With the late emperor's passing, Asherad would be too preoccupied settling affairs and ascending the throne.
Why would he bother pursuing a mere toy like her? She knew her place all too well.
In any case, she had to leave the imperial capital by today. She calmly checked her belongings and mounted her horse.
She was leaving the capital where she had been born and raised her whole life. Leaving the place where she had been with her mother. Unable even to visit the grave, she had hurried her steps. The moment she mounted the horse, bitterness welled up, but she gripped the reins tightly and spurred the horse on.
* * *
She rode for a long while like that. The sun that had hung high in the sky set, and before she knew it, night had fallen.
Having left the capital, Daphne's heart grew anxious again. She needed to hurry a little more and find somewhere to spend the night. Near the capital, the public order wouldn't be bad, but she could still lose her life to bandits and wild beasts.
A young woman of twenty-one would make particularly good prey for bandits.
It was a wretched life, but she neither wanted to become bandits' prey nor to die.
Only after the moon had risen to its zenith did Daphne arrive at the outlying city closest to the capital.
Her body was exhausted. She entered the largest inn in the city, paid, and obtained a room. The innkeeper frowned suspiciously and looked her up and down, but she assumed it was because she had paid in gold coins.
When she entered the room, a sigh escaped Daphne's lips.
True to her request for a good room, the room wasn't bad. The walls, tinged by the moonlight filtering in, had a greenish hue, and the bedding was pure white. The room even came with its own bath. It was incomparably better than the rooms she had stayed in at the imperial palace.
It even reminded her of the good rooms she had stayed in as a young child, when she lived with her mother.
In the imperial palace, she had always had to live curled up, like yet another patch of mold, in a place that smelled musty of mildew, where rats rustled across the ceiling.
But that was over now.
Realizing she had escaped from it all made her tired. Daphne flung her luggage aside and took off her hat.
Bright golden hair cascaded down to the small of her back. She ran her fingers through her hair, then threw herself onto the bed as if diving in. She had heard that the farther one got from the capital, the worse the rooms became, and she tried to imagine just how bad they might get.
But the more she thought of it, the more the corners of her mouth lifted. The future terrified her to the point of madness, but Daphne now had a future—a new future. She had finally escaped that loathsome imperial palace.
'I hope you're free now.'
The bitter voice of a man echoed over and over in her head. Daphne tried hard to forget it.
A small thrill and fear came over her at the same time.
"Sara."
Picturing the brown-haired girl covered in freckles, she felt sincerely grateful to her friend.
If it hadn't been for her, escaping amid the emperor's death would not have been easy. Thinking that she must send her a letter once her situation was settled, she recalled her days in the imperial palace.
She had endured those years, taking her mother's punishment in her stead. But that too was over. Because the emperor was dead.
She thought of him—who would become the next emperor, Asherad. If it hadn't been for Asherad, she could not have endured that time. Sadly, that was true. But he……
Daphne squeezed her eyes shut. Even with her eyes closed, the blood-soaked man vividly surfaced. The man drenched in red blood had spoken tenderly.
'My beloved Daphne.'
That slow, sweet voice, so unlike his cruel exterior, surfaced, and her heart lurched. But much time had passed since then. In the three years since Asherad had gone to war, he might well have already forgotten her.
As proof, had there not been no contact whatsoever? When he left for the battlefield, the bond between the two had been severed. In that place where death and life coexisted, she had been nothing more than a trifle.
It would be arrogance itself to think he kept a trivial being like the daughter of a lowly concubine in his mind.
She was a toy. Asherad's puppy.
When the man who stood in a position that seemed to hold all the light of the world came to mind, her heart grew complicated. A strange hatred and a sting came over her at the same time.
That's right. There was no way that man would remember her. Calming the oddly sour feeling she had felt, she closed her eyes.
She heard footsteps.
Daphne started up at the sound. Like a herbivore that had caught the footsteps of a hunter, she straightened and flinched. But the doorway was calm.
Was it not soundproof? Well, that was plausible enough. She approached the door. Come to think of it, she hadn't latched the lock. That was close. Just then, a voice came from behind her.
"Locking it now, after all this time?"
It was an intensely low, husky voice. Startled, she spun around and let out a short scream. The man, watching her confusion, smiled coldly.
The man was completely bare. His body, covered in scars she didn't know, was packed with taut muscle. The beautiful male body glistened with water, as if he had just bathed.
Only then did Daphne realize that the footsteps she had heard had sounded damp somehow.
Water droplets fell in drops from his curly black hair. As the man took a step, she backed away one step. His pale green eyes narrowed.
"Daphne."
"Your—Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty?"
The corners of the man's mouth lifted slightly. That was not good. It meant he was angry.
"How are you here……"
He spoke as he looked out the window.
"As if I wouldn't recognize you."
"……"
"Where you would go was obvious."
It meant he had already predicted her range of movement. And so, he would have bribed the innkeeper, entered the room she would stay in, and been bathing in advance……
"Why did you run away?"
"……"
"Tell me."
Though the words were tender, cajoling ones, a sharp bloodlust was melted into them. Like facing the eyes of a beast of prey. Looking at the man's pale green eyes, Daphne swallowed hard.
"Your Majesty."
"No. You must speak properly."
"Asherad."
"……"
Tears fell in drops from Daphne's two eyes. Did he truly not know? The reason she was running away. He knew all too well the reason she had left the imperial palace. Just as her lips refused to part, her body was pulled forward, and suddenly her breath was cut off.
"Mmph—!"
The hot breath escaping him brushed roughly against her face. Daphne received Asherad's kiss with her eyes wide open. A red mass of flesh pried its way inside.
It was difficult to endure his kiss. Perhaps she had stumbled back unconsciously, her back eventually meeting the wall. His thick thighs parted her legs. Feeling his fierce desire against her waist, her eyes opened wide.
The lewd, wet sounds filled her ears. After taking her lips for a long while, he drew his mouth away. Unlike her, gasping and heaving for breath, Asherad was perfectly fine.
Asherad gently brushed Daphne's saliva-slicked lips with his index finger and said:
"I was always drawing you."
"……"
"Weren't you?"
That smoldering gaze seemed as if it might burn Daphne's face.