There were six kingdoms on the continent of Ratznia.
To the west was Kiabeck, and to the east, Verden, both occupying vast territories.
Between them lay three small kingdoms.
And at the northern edge of the continent was Ekillium.
Ekillium, covered mostly in ice and barren land, was once a confederation of tribes and the last to form into a kingdom.
The warrior who unified Ekillium was Tigrenu Olaus, a man from the weakest of the tribes.
After subduing the rival tribes and becoming king of Ekillium, Tigrenu marched south and invaded Kiabeck.
He conquered the fertile lands and enslaved the Kiabeck people.
History recorded this conquest as the War of the Sun.
He continued to advance toward Verden.
Fierce battles raged, and one by one, the castles of Verden fell.
The royal family of Verden was pushed to the eastern edge, isolated with steep mountains at their back.
Cut off from supplies, the fortress began to rot from within.
By the spring of the fifth year since the territorial expansion began, Ekillium was on the brink of unifying the continent of Ratznia.
***
It was the morning of the 157th day since Ekillium’s army began besieging a fortress of Verden.
The sun rose over the desolate field of dead grass.
As the solemn beat of drums echoed, archers on a moving wooden tower launched flaming arrows.
A rain of fire darkened the sky and poured down upon the fortress walls.
The blazing arrowheads struck the enemy soldiers like the fangs of wild beasts.
Screaming soldiers engulfed in flames flail wildly before collapsing.
The more the formation of the fortress defenders fell apart, the faster the rhythm of the drums grew.
Advancing catapults hurled boulders.
Amid thunderous crashes that shook the earth and sky, parts of the fortress crumbled.
The counterattack from beyond the broken stone walls was weak.
Amid fierce flames and black smoke, arrows and boulders came only sporadically.
Supplies had long been cut off, and the once-beautiful old fortress now resembled a withering giant tree.
The rhythm of the drums slowed.
The barrage stopped, and the sky cleared.
From within the ranks of Ekillium’s cavalry, assembled under a banner with an eagle emblem, a single horse rode forward.
It was a black stallion with a blue mane.
A knight in helmet and armor held the reins, cutting through the wind.
Through the rising dust on the barren field, a green flag fluttered from the knight’s back.
Drawing a lone path across the vast land, the knight rode alone to the front of the fortress wall.
The drums ceased.
As the horse’s labored breathing faded, the knight removed his helmet.
“Surrender. I guarantee the safety of your people.”
A dignified voice echoed across the wasteland.
Soldiers who had been hiding behind the wall rose cautiously, observing the situation outside.
“King of Verden, surrender. I promise the safety of your soldiers.”
The sound of spears and swords dropping rang through the air.
Clang.
Clang.
Amid the growing clamor of metal, murmurs began to spread.
“This is the final warning. Surrender, or die. Verden must choose!”
From the sky, a flock of crows cawed loudly.
A faint sob echoed through the cracks in the fortress wall.
The sobs soon turned into wails and lamentation.
Cries for Verden rose like waves, and songs in praise of the king flowed like funeral hymns.
The knight waited.
Until the cheers were drowned in tears.
Until the sorrowful songs scattered in the wind.
A white flag slowly rose above the fortress wall, where crows circled.
The sun dyed the blood-stained, tattered white cloth.
***
The castle gate opened, and an elderly man walked out.
The King of Verden stepped barefoot onto the dry earth, without attendants or guards.
A white toga draped his emaciated body, and a laurel leaf—the symbol of his kingdom—was tucked into it.
He approached the black stallion and bowed deeply.
Wrinkles lined the back of his neck beneath his disheveled white hair.
The knight dismounted and placed a longsword in front of the king.
“I am no executioner. Fight as a king.”
The frail hand grasped the sword.
Sunlight shattered upon the blade as it left its scabbard.
A gray shadow mixed with the brilliance caught the knight’s eye.
The knight’s expression briefly stiffened before the duel began.
The king used a sword technique common in the eastern regions.
The outcome was clear from the start.
The weakened king was no match for the young and vigorous knight.
His trembling legs faltered, and his anxious blade only sliced the air.
The knight did not flaunt his skill.
He waited patiently, striking only when he saw an opening, his movements controlled.
It took only three steps for his sword to pierce the king’s chest.
Just as the image formed in the knight’s mind, the wind shifted.
The enemy’s sword moved unpredictably—a style not of this continent, perhaps not even of humankind.
The knight felt a flicker of interest.
But he quickly steeled himself.
This was no time for learning.
Even less for amusement.
This duel was a duty.
The tyrant king had to die for the war to end.
It would be enough to take his life—no need to inflict unnecessary pain or humiliation, even on an enemy.
The knight shifted the angle of his blade.
It seemed to lie flat, then suddenly danced in the wind.
With a sharp twist, it clashed against the enemy’s weapon and broke through his guard.
His sword swept past the enemy’s blade and wrapped around the wind.
The knight drove it into the opening.
“Ugh!”
A groan escaped the king’s parched lips.
His frail knees buckled, and his body collapsed.
The white toga slowly turned red.
The knight stood and waited, watching until death fully claimed the man’s body.
Blood dripped from the blade pointed at the earth.
As the dark red stained the barren ground, crows cawed from above.
The king’s tear-filled eyes, once gazing at the sky, fluttered shut.
The knight removed his gauntlet and pulled out a single green leaf, placing it under the king’s nose.
The leaf, having received the final breath, shimmered with a golden light.
Just as I thought.
The warnings that he might use such a ruse weren’t unfounded.
A gust of wind swept the leaf away.
The knight knelt on one knee before the corpse.
Then he tore the toga open, slit the tyrant king’s belly, and soaked the cold heart in blood.
Grasping the heart, stained with royal blood, he rose and held it high.
A thunderous roar erupted from the Ekillium camp.
To hold the heart was to claim the soul.
It marked the moment Verden was declared subordinate to Ekillium.
The knight slowly lowered his hand.
As he smeared his face with the clump of blood, a vision flickered across his mind.
A beheaded corpse, an ornate dagger, a child trembling as they held up a heart drenched in blood.
Even then, the enemies had howled like beasts.
Behind the ranks of soldiers, one man’s face hardened.
He rode a reddish-brown stallion, and a golden eagle was embroidered on his cloak.
“Your Highness, the tyrant’s heart belongs to you. You must receive it and present it to His Majesty. What Sir Rehat has done is treason.”
An aged advisor spoke beside the prince.
“Silence. Division on the battlefield is self-destruction.”
Calyan Olaus, Prince of Ekillium, clenched his teeth but defended the knight.
Blayden Rehart, supreme commander of Ekillium’s cavalry, was the architect of this war’s victory. Now was not the time to accuse a hero of treason.
Not until their return to the homeland—there could be no cracks in unity.
Blayden turned to face the soldiers he had led.
Beyond his blood-soaked vision, the eagle banner flapped.
In the instant his blood-drenched eyelashes lifted, the wind stirred.
A black hawk swooped in.
Spreading its wings, the massive bird dived and snatched the heart away with razor-sharp talons.
For a moment, the cheers ceased.
A chilling silence blanketed the field.
Then murmurs rippled across both armies.
The faces of Verden’s royals, who had watched the duel from the castle walls, turned pale.
“The trophy is gone.”
“The king’s soul will wander the afterlife.”
“Does this still count as surrender?”
Shock and fear were carried on the wind.
The knight, standing alone on the vast plain, wiped the blood from his face as he stared at the eagle banner in the distance.
Enjoy the victory. My war begins now.
***
Kingdom of Kiavek, Claville.
“Now, kiss me.”
A girl’s voice echoed through the quiet forest.
“It’s just the two of us here.”
“You really mean it?”
***
Under a tree, a boy hesitated as he stood facing the girl.
“Uncle Thomas said that if you don’t have your first kiss by your twentieth birthday, you won’t get one for the next ten years.”
“You actually believe him? He’s full of hot air.”
“I think ten years is an exaggeration too. But I do need to kiss someone.”
“Why?”
“There are only two days left until my birthday. Dad said he’s going to make an important decision then. I’m sure he’s going to give me a role.”
“What’s that got to do with kissing?”
“Peter!”
Frustrated, the girl stomped her foot.
“Idiot. All main characters get to kiss someone. I’ve spent the past few years playing trees and rocks. I want a role with lines.”
“Why does it have to be a kiss? Leni, what about playing a soldier? You’re great with a sword.”
“I want love, not war. Sweet and romantic. Graceful and passionate.”
“Hmm…”
Peter nodded, still hesitant.
Uncle Thomas said… Your first kiss stays with your heart forever.
“Um… are you okay with this?”
“Peter, we’re friends, right? Of course I’m okay with it. Are you not okay?”
“Well… not not okay. I mean, we’ll be together for a long time anyway.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t ask just anyone. I trust you, because we grew up together. Think about all the adventures we’ve had in the troupe. This is just another one of those.”
“I guess…”
“Right! So do it properly. Make it nice. You’ll be blessed for this.”
“Okay…”
Clearing his throat, Peter took a deep breath and straightened his back.
Leni took his hand and placed it on her shoulder.
“Like this. Wrap your arms around me.”
“Uh… okay.”
Still awkward, Peter leaned in.
Leni closed her eyes and tilted her chin slightly.
Just as Peter leaned forward to meet her lips—careful not to bump noses—the leaves above them rustled.
“Gasp!”
Leni flinched and froze.
As she opened her eyes and tilted her head back, a red lump fell toward her from above.