A young merchant named Kyle, representing the emerging merchant class of the empire, found himself heading toward the northern plains—a place he would never have glanced at under normal circumstances.
His thoughts were swirling with questions and possibilities.
If it weren’t for his connection to Kenneth, the third prince of the Rontania Empire, he might never have set foot in this remote land.
Kenneth was an intriguing man.
It wasn’t that he understood the flow of money or knew how to sell goods to people.
It was something else entirely—it was as if he could see the future.
Wherever he went, wealth seemed to follow.
If he had been using insider information, Kyle wouldn’t have held him in such high regard.
After all, Kenneth was a prince with no real power or influence.
Giving away what you have is easy, but taking what others possess is far more difficult—especially when it comes to money.
What was it about Kenneth that made him so compelling?
Kyle, who had inherited a respectable fortune, found himself following the prince out of sheer curiosity.
And then, out of nowhere, Kenneth decided to liquidate all his assets and head to the lands of a foreign tribe.
His reason?
He had fallen in love at first sight with a girl from that tribe who had visited the empire.
Sure, the girl was pretty, but was that really enough to justify such a drastic move?
Kenneth Kyle knew was a pragmatic man, not the type to throw himself into danger for the sake of romance.
‘Is there a hidden diamond mine in the northern plains? Or maybe an emerald deposit?’
But Kyle trusted his instincts.
That’s why he put his ongoing projects on hold and threw himself into helping Kenneth.
Coincidentally, a business matter required him to travel to the Tritan Kingdom, so he decided to personally lead the third support convoy heading north.
‘There’s a lot I want to ask him.’
He wanted to borrow Kenneth’s foresight.
Who was more likely to claim the throne—the first prince or the first princess?
What was the real reason Kenneth was heading to the tribal lands?
And what about the letters he had exchanged with the Church—was there anything useful for business?
Of course, Kenneth wasn’t the type to answer questions directly, but even his subtle expressions or offhand remarks could provide enough clues to paint a clearer picture of the future.
When they finally arrived at the grasslands, Kyle was surprised.
“It’s already over?”
The northern epidemic, which had seemed quite severe from the reports, appeared to have been resolved.
It was as if the situation had been brought under control almost effortlessly.
“I guess it wasn’t as big a deal as we thought?”
Anyone would think the same.
None of the continent’s major powers—the Rontanian Imperial Knights, the magic corps of the Faran Kingdom, or the Holy Knights of the Church—had been deployed.
All that had been sent were some supplies: food, weapons, and medicine.
Yet, in less than half a year, the crisis was over?
It seemed reasonable to assume it hadn’t been that serious.
But Kenneth shot Kyle a sharp glare.
The prince pointed toward the horizon, where black smoke had been rising all day.
“They’re burning the bodies. Too many people died. Don’t make light of this.”
“I misspoke. I’m truly sorry.”
Kyle could understand why Kenneth was upset.
Even he, in his previous iterations, had underestimated the severity of the epidemic, dismissing it as “just some disease.”
But now, having witnessed the full extent of the tragedy, he couldn’t let it slide.
As Kyle bowed his head in apology, Kenneth patted his back and told him to be more careful, then set off to find Frennila.
The situation had been resolved, and the third support convoy had arrived.
They needed to discuss how to use the supplies now that the crisis was over.
Walking through the streets of Kazein, Kyle saw warriors covered in soot and sweat moving busily about.
They all seemed relieved, yet there was a subtle undercurrent of melancholy in their expressions.
Seeing them, an idea began to form in Kyle’s mind.
*
The occupation and cleansing of Kazein had been swift.
The ruined huts were torn down, and the bodies, too numerous to bury individually, were gathered and burned.
“We found these documents in a place that seems to have been used as a base by dark mages.”
“This is…”
The perpetrators of the epidemic had not been caught, so efforts were underway to track their movements.
During the dismantling of the camps, these documents were discovered—papers left behind in their haste to escape.
The documents were written in the imperial language. “Experiments on the Link Between Dark Magic and Voodoo.”
Next to the text was a familiar seal—the emblem of the Rontania Empire.
But there was a slight difference: a black rose was engraved in the center, a symbol Kyle recognized as representing the first princess, Kaela.
“Isn’t this too obvious? It feels like someone’s trying to frame the first princess.”
“Perhaps, but the imperial seal isn’t something that can be easily forged.”
According to Svioha, the imperial seal was crafted using the latest magitech.
Its authenticity could be verified immediately.
Even if someone tried to forge it, they would need the skills of at least a tower lord from the Magical Tower.
Could the first princess really be behind this?
Before heading north, Kyle had heard that she had summoned Kenneth to her palace in an attempt to stop him from leaving.
“Frennila, may I come in?”
Kyle decided not to jump to conclusions. He had someone trustworthy to discuss this with.
If this turned out to be a forgery, it wouldn’t be too late to bring it up with Kenneth later.
“Prince, come in.”
Frennila granted permission, and Kenneth entered the tent.
Behind him was a man Kyle recognized—a merchant from the empire.
“This is…”
“Kyle, a merchant from the empire. Long time no see, Miss Frennila of the Bow Tribe.”
“The third support convoy has arrived. The situation is over, but we need to discuss how to proceed.”
Though it was called a support convoy, these were technically the prince’s personal resources.
He could have used them as he saw fit without consulting anyone.
“Don’t ask for my opinion. These are yours to use as you please.”
Many of the Shield Tribe’s villages had been destroyed.
Now that Kenneth had been revealed as the grandson of Argin, no one would object if he used the supplies solely for the Shield Tribe.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Of course. If anyone complains, I’ll handle it. Please, use them as you wish.”
Kenneth’s face lit up.
“Then let’s hold a festival!”
“A festival?”
The word was unexpected.
Kenneth’s plan was to celebrate their victory, to give the warriors a chance to rest, to honor the fallen, and to rejoice in the reunification of Saka.
Frennila couldn’t help but think that the supplies should be saved to rebuild the damaged villages and prepare for the coming winter.
But she didn’t want to oppose Kenneth’s decision.
After all, everything belonged to him.
*
As everything was being organized, the warriors gathered in an open field in Kazein.
A large bonfire was lit, and meat was roasted over the flames.
Wagons arrived in the distance, unloading barrels of alcohol.
Kyle stood watching, lost in thought, when Werhe approached him.
“What are you doing here alone?”
“Oh, Werhe.”
She was dressed differently than usual, wearing a light outfit instead of her usual leather armor.
It suited her lively personality, much like Frennila’s traditional silk attire had when she visited the empire as a messenger of death.
“That outfit looks good on you.”
“…Save those compliments for Frennila.”
She punched his arm a few times, then sighed and sat down beside him.
“You look troubled.”
“…Yeah, I guess.”
“Is it because of what you asked me in the cave?”
The question she had asked him came to mind: “What will you do after this is over?”
Kyle nodded, sinking back into thought.
If they had caught the dark mages and extracted information, he might feel more at ease.
But Frennila had told him there was no trace of where they had gone.
So what should he do?
Stay in the northern lands?
Return to the empire, knowing the dangers that might await?
And what about his mother’s message?
Should he ignore it?
His mind was a mess.
Seeing his troubled expression, Werhe stood up and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to his feet.
“What are you doing?!”
“When your mind is tangled, the answer is to move!”
She pulled him along, pushing past the warriors unloading supplies from the wagons and taking over their task.
The barrels of alcohol were heavy, but Werhe carried two at a time without breaking a sweat.
Kyle, trying to match her, quickly realized he could only manage one.
“What, can’t even carry two? You’re weak!”
“Oh, so you’re proud of being strong? I may not have your strength, but I’ve got more guts and cunning than you.”
The two began a competition to see who could carry more barrels.
…
“Huff… huff… I’m dying.”
“Why did you push yourself so hard? You could’ve just accepted defeat.”
“A man’s pride won’t allow that. Ugh.”
“Hmph, since when were you a man?”
The two sat down, catching their breath as the wind cooled their sweat.
They gazed up at the sky.
“…So, are you going back to the empire?”
Her voice was as brusque as ever, but there was a hint of reluctance in it.
“I’m not sure. My grandfather is getting old, so I should probably return at some point.”
“So you’re saying you’ll leave eventually?”
“…Yeah.”
Werhe’s expression grew complicated.
She clenched and unclenched her fists, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
“Do you have something to say?”
“…No, it’s just that things will be quieter once you’re gone. I might finally get some sleep.”
Was she worried about him?
“Thanks for caring.”
Kyle genuinely thanked her.
“Who’s worried? Just be careful when you go back. And train harder. If you’re still weaker than me next time we meet, I’ll really give you a beating!”
She turned her head away.
The sky had grown dark.
The large bonfire roared, and the unique melodies of tribal music filled the air.
It was a mysterious, soothing sound.
Svioha, dressed in ceremonial robes, began to dance in honor of the fallen.
As her movements reached toward the sky, the flames seemed to cleanse the land of its impurities.
The festival was about to begin.
“Shall we join them? Let’s enjoy the festival.”
To honor his mother’s message, Kyle would have to bid a temporary farewell.
“Alright, alright, stop pushing me!”
With that, he hurriedly pushed Werhe toward the festival grounds.