Night had fallen deep. Powdery snow, heralding the arrival of the harsh northern winter, had begun to fall. The radiant full moon illuminated the land in place of the vanished sun. In this frigid season, the moon in the north appeared closer to the earth than in any other time of year. Shining its brightest light tonight, the full moon would now begin to fade gradually—eventually disappearing altogether, as if buried underground, throughout the brutal cold of winter.
Situated at the edge of the continent, the North endured winter for half the year, and the nights stretched long. As a result, the Axid territory had to fight Nir’a far longer than any other domain. True to its reputation as the region where Nir’a appeared most frequently, the safety of the North was directly tied to the fate of the kingdom. This was why the Tither of the North always had to be strong.
In exchange for the burden it carried, the capital granted the North special privileges. It was the only region in Solias to be granted the title of Grand Duke, and any matter requiring the full mobilization of the Tither needed final approval from the North. The same rules applied on the battlefield—if a Guide’s assistance was needed, priority was given to the Northern Tither.
But that was in the past.
When Seiyad’s mother was executed, the North lost its real power. Only the inherited title of Grand Duke remained; the Brosius family’s influence had hit rock bottom. The authority that once belonged to the North was now seized by House Shildras, located in the South, closest to the capital.
The royal family maintained a balance with the Tither by withholding the full power of the Guides. It was this method that allowed the monarchy to control the Tither, who surpassed ordinary humans. Every Tither’s worst nightmare was losing their mind and being executed due to lack of purification.
Still, the safety of the Tither was ultimately linked to the survival of the kingdom. And so, the royal family always maintained a careful balance. Those bound by duty prioritized the extermination of Nir’a above all else—that was how the system had endured.
But this king was different. From the moment he came to power, he pursued policies that suppressed the Tither. By strengthening the royal knights, he managed matters in a way that minimized reliance on the Tither. When the moment came where their help was truly necessary, he restricted Seiyad’s involvement to prevent the North from gaining glory or merit. The king no longer wanted the Tither to be honored within the kingdom.
Thus, the only matter over which Seiyad currently held any authority was the Ritual of Invocation, an event overseen solely by the North. The reason the king left this ceremony untouched was that he knew it brought more loss than benefit. Whatever happened during the ritual fell under the North’s responsibility—and even if the ritual was completed successfully, nothing changed.
“This year’s Ritual of Invocation is the simplest I’ve seen yet, Grand Duke.”
At the head of the procession heading into the forest where the ritual would take place, Duke Bridehit spoke to Seiyad. Perhaps he had regained his energy after resting well following the luncheon; he looked far more refreshed than he had upon arrival. Even in his fifties, Duke Bridehit maintained the handsome appearance of a man in his thirties—one of the reasons Seiyad had always found him a difficult man to face.
“Maybe it’s because of the Shildras funeral, but it feels like there are fewer people this year. Where’s that attendant you’re always dragging around? Even the commoners who usually crowd to watch are nowhere to be seen.”
Though Seiyad gave no response, Duke Bridehit continued speaking. Among the four Tither, he was the hardest to read—an eccentric who followed his whims. He was also unmatched in shamelessness, entirely unbothered by Seiyad’s cold demeanor.
“Is it because of what you mentioned earlier, perhaps?”
Speaking into the silence, Bridehit answered his own question. At that, Duchess Vetria, who had remained silent until then, snapped sharply.
“Are you really going to believe the Grand Duke’s nonsense, Duke Bridehit? That absurd claim about a mid-tier Nir’a appearing?”
A few hours earlier, Seiyad had summoned both Bridehit and Vetria to request their cooperation. As Seiyad had never once initiated a conversation before, the two dukes were intrigued enough to accept the meeting.
“I had a bad dream this morning and decided to inspect the forest early. While patrolling, I saw something resembling a mid-tier Nir’a. I know it shouldn’t be possible, but just in case, I suggest you leave attendants and lower-ranked knights at the castle. Also, please assign as many experienced personnel as possible to the ritual.”
That had been the best warning Seiyad could offer. Compared to some outrageous claim about being resurrected or having glimpsed the future, this explanation held more credibility. Bridehit had listened with interest, but Vetria had flatly refused.
“There’s never been a mid-tier Nir’a during this season in all of history. To reorganize our forces based on a mere bad dream and an uncertain hunch? Surely even the Grand Duke knows how absurd that sounds.”
Cutting off the conversation as if there was nothing more to hear, Vetria had stared Seiyad down and pressed him.
“And to think such words came from you of all people. The idea that you care about others’ safety is more unbelievable than a talking rat. I don’t know what scheme you’re plotting, but Vetria of the East won’t fall for your tricks again.”
Vetria’s firm stance eventually led Duke Bridehit to align with her. Though his expression remained curious, it was clear Bridehit didn’t believe Seiyad either.
“Isn’t protecting the Lights of Solias our top priority? The strongest must stay by His Highness’s side, and the purpose of the Ritual of Invocation is to teach young knights caution and experience. I’m afraid I can’t accept your request.”
It was a perfectly logical counterargument. Not unexpected. Seiyad himself might’ve acted the same in their place. Rather than try to convince them further, he chose to proceed as originally planned—handling the matter alone.
He’d never grown up relying on others, and this method suited him better. Other people always introduced variables, and situations that couldn’t be controlled led to mistakes.
“We’re Tither, aren’t we? If the Grand Duke had a restless dream, it could be a kind of prophecy—who’s to say it’s not?”
“Then I wonder why you didn’t listen to him earlier.”
“Hahaha, it’s all just speculation, speculation.”
While Duke Bridehit’s idle chatter continued, they approached the forest’s edge. The landscape was filled with colossal conifers taller than most castles, blanketing the entire North. Snow almost never melted here, and darkness always lingered. This was the place spoken of in ancient times as where the Devil was first born and made its lair.
Just before the edge of the forest stood an ancient temple. Constructed tall from marble, the temple served as the site of the ritual—and once, it had been the place where the devil was sealed.
Seiyad dismounted and made his way toward the center of the procession. As soon as the Crown Prince, who stood at the ritual’s heart, saw Seiyad approaching, he reached out his hand with a smile. Under torchlight so bright it seemed like midday, Aster’s golden hair glowed brilliantly.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Refusing the hands offered by other knights, the Crown Prince insisted on Seiyad alone. Seiyad, gazing quietly down at him, slowly removed his black leather gloves. Aster always wanted direct contact with Seiyad.
When the pale hand marred with scars reached out, a pleased smile lit Aster’s eyes. Having taken off his own white leather gloves, he naturally clasped Seiyad’s hand. Despite Aster’s firm tug, Seiyad didn’t move, prompting Aster to hop down from his horse instead. He then began walking toward the temple with practiced steps.
“The weather’s quite nice today. No wind, barely any snow—seems like this will be a peaceful Ritual of Invocation.”
In response to the Crown Prince’s pleasant remark, a clerk following him bowed slightly and agreed.
“It’s all thanks to Your Highness’s blessing. Not once in these past years has the weather been poor on the days Your Highness led the ritual.”
“We’ll see. There’s a raincloud mixed in today, isn’t there?”
Aster came to a halt and turned around. Everyone who had been walking in step with the prince stopped in unison and followed his gaze. At the end of the sharp, focused stares stood Prince Ressas.
With a radiant smile, Aster addressed him.
“I didn’t think you’d still be hanging around. How long do you plan to shame His Majesty? Your very presence here is a disgrace to Solias.”
As Aster spoke, his knights laughed. The clerks who had come to record the ceremony, as well as the prince’s attendants, smirked discreetly.
Even the few knights who stood by Prince Ressas didn’t respond. No one dared refute the Crown Prince’s words—but more than that, everyone acknowledged Aster’s statement as truth.
The dukes, too, observed the Crown Prince without changing expression. To the Tither, the royal family only held value because of the Guides’ power, and a royal bloodline without the power of purification was not someone they owed loyalty or protection to.
Ressas met the scornful gazes aimed at him with composure. Without shame or agitation, he replied to Aster, expressionless.
“I’ll conduct myself so I cause no trouble.”
“You will?”
Aster asked sweetly, then burst into loud laughter.
“Very well, do that. You’d best crawl into a hole like a rat. If you go making a scene without knowing your place, you’ll end up dragging innocent people into it.”
Smiling with curled lips, Aster turned his back as if he were finished. The crowd that had paused with him began to move again, and only Ressas and his knights remained still. Ressas stood in place, silently watching Aster’s retreating back. Then his eyes briefly met Seiyad’s.
Ressas pressed his lips together and turned his head first. Seiyad, who had slightly parted his lips as if to say something, also failed to find the right words and turned away. As he headed toward the temple, behind him, Ressas’s quiet voice reached his ears—an apology to his knights.
“Because of my shortcomings, you’re being insulted along with me. I’m sorry.”
Though Sir Anka stepped forward to console him, not a single one of them directly contradicted the Crown Prince’s words.
