3) Peccata
Spring in Solias was a season of profound significance to all. The warm rays that followed the harshest of winters not only signaled a new beginning, but also carried the deep sense of relief that came with surviving Nir’a and reaching another year.
When the flags were raised across each territory to indicate that there was no longer any need to fear walking at night, that was when spring truly began. From that point forward, the entire kingdom burst into celebration. It started with the royal thanksgiving ceremony honoring Raman I, the kingdom’s founder, and continued for two full weeks with festivals praying for a bountiful harvest under the blessing of the sun.
Every territory had its own customs and style, which made it fun to explore, but Vine had been stuck in the capital for a few years now. So once again, he was doomed to experience only the capital’s festival. Sure, there were plenty of well-groomed beauties in the capital to enjoy watching, but when it came to food, the southern Shildras region was undeniably superior. And as for alcohol, everyone said the best was always from the North.
After finally tasting the legendary northern liquor around October last year, Vine had no choice but to acknowledge its greatness. He had traveled across the kingdom as a mercenary, but the North had remained untouched territory. He’d postponed his judgment until last year. Even Commander Anka, who had taken him in and helped place him in the royal knights, had agreed with his assessment.
“Ugh… Fighting would be one thing, but palace patrols? They’re so damn boring.”
He thought he’d just grumbled to himself, but Rigda, walking in tandem beside him, clearly heard.
“You trying to get dragged away on blasphemy charges? What a spoiled thing to say. You’re finally living like a proper human being, and you can’t even be grateful.”
Vine gave a slight shrug as he fiddled with the sword sheathed at his hip. He and Rigda, fellow knights, had both been born commoners and shared twenty-seven years together. Whether it was fate or misfortune, they’d been born in the same village and made it all the way here together.
Takhan—a small village nestled between the southern Shildras territory and the western Bridehit lands—had never been a hotspot for Nir’a. The thick forests surrounding the territories had blocked them from spilling that far south. But the year Vine was born, the south was breached by Nir’a. The destruction reached Takhan.
In the blink of an eye, he became an orphan. Rigda’s situation wasn’t much different. The two had clung to each other like family, and at some point, they started mimicking swordplay from passing mercenaries resting in their village. Then, by sheer luck, they got into a mercenary group and spent years roaming the country, taking on all sorts of work.
The money wasn’t bad, but the jobs were. Every mission was a gamble with their lives. During their last job escorting cargo, Vine and Rigda nearly died. The one who saved them was none other than a rare and noble royal—Ressas.
The cargo’s destination had been Takhan, so they’d agreed to quit after that job and take a break. It nearly became their final mission. On his way back to the capital through the Shildras region, Ressas rescued Vine and Rigda. And when Rigda, ever the earnest one, vowed to repay the favor, Ressas had them placed under Anka’s command.
“You’re free to leave whenever you want.”
It had been several years ago now, but Vine still remembered that winter when he first met the young man. Honestly, at first, he thought he was some sort of deity people saw right before death. That’s how beautiful he looked. For several months afterward, Vine had trouble even looking him in the eye.
He only learned later that Ressas was the infamous “useless prince” of Solias. Not that it mattered to Vine. Survival was what mattered, and the prince had given him the means to survive.
Ressas had everything a person could dream of—except power. He had a tall, graceful figure, a breathtakingly beautiful face, and a temperament so calm and kind it made you wonder if he could even get angry. No matter how despised he might be, a prince was still a prince—surely, he had plenty of wealth.
Of course, being by his side made it clear that he lived more poorly than most well-off nobles. But that was all in the past. Ever since his Awakening as a Guide, the prince had left his rundown palace behind and was granted a resplendent residence rivaling even the Crown Prince’s.
Even after years of shabby, humiliating treatment, any normal person would’ve felt some joy. Yet the prince never seemed all that happy. In fact, Vine could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Ressas genuinely joyful.
The odd thing was, the prince smiled easily. And when he did, it seemed sincere and warm, as though he really felt it. But the problem was that he always smiled like that.
His liege neither raged nor wept. He only endured, or smiled quietly.
In the past six years, the only time Vine had ever seen Ressas express intense emotion was last winter—when he crossed paths with the terrifying northern Duke, a man he’d only ever heard of in rumors. That was the first time Vine witnessed Ressas truly angry… and deeply despondent.
“It was the Duke who saved your lives. Don’t let your emotions blind you to the truth.”
He had chastised Jasper, who cowered and called Seiyad Brosius the “Devil of Solias.” But he wasn’t just talking to Jasper. Every knight present had heard those words. To be honest, Vine had also thought the same thing when he first laid eyes on Axid.
The situation had been terrible. While he’d physically fended off the Nir’a—beasts the size of bears—the real terror emerged the moment they encountered them. A visceral, irrational fear swelled from within. His arm trembled if he let his guard down, and a creeping emptiness gnawed at him like he was utterly alone.
Then, from the darkness, that tall man appeared without a sound, his crimson eyes glowing with inhuman power. Honestly, Vine nearly pissed himself. Pride kept everyone quiet, but Jasper had probably wet himself for sure.
The overwhelming pressure Duke Axid exuded was the kind only true powerhouses possessed. He stood unwavering in the darkness, unfazed, radiating monstrous strength.
Jasper had muttered that the man’s swordplay didn’t seem impressive, but Vine had seen it with his own eyes. That heavy greatsword, tinged faintly red, moved with lightning speed and cut only where it hurt. You could tell a lot about a man from his sword, and Axid’s bore no unnecessary cruelty. His fighting was precise and ruthlessly efficient—inhumanly so.
That sword haunted him. So did the power that single-handedly annihilated the Nir’a that had massacred the villagers and their parents, as if it were nothing. Ever since that day, Vine found himself less afraid of the Duke and more compelled by an overwhelming desire to do something meaningful—like take down Nir’a.
Which is why this moment felt so suffocating.
“I just don’t want to waste time doing something meaningless.”
Of course, it was spring now—there was no opportunity to face the Nir’a. Besides, Ressas had only just returned from the Shildras territory a month ago and had fallen gravely ill, so it looked like everyone would be staying in the palace for a while.
“What do you mean, meaningless? Duke Axid is coming to the palace soon. Since someone dangerous is visiting, we have to stay extra alert.”
Vine let out a hollow laugh. A clear scoff. Rigda stopped in her tracks, glaring at him sideways.
“You laughing?”
She looked ready to sock him, so Vine quickly offered an explanation. Getting hit by Rigda really hurt. Though she was a slender woman, her strength rivaled—or surpassed—most men.
“It’s not like an enemy is invading. It’s just Tither visiting the palace—what’s so dangerous about that? If they really thought he was a threat, they shouldn’t let him set foot in here at all.”
Rigda hadn’t gone on the northern expedition last winter—she’d been assigned elsewhere on Ressas’s orders. Never having seen the Duke for herself, she asked Vine with curiosity.
“But you said he’s supposed to be super cruel and scary, right? If he’s called a ‘devil,’ who knows what he might do inside the palace? Didn’t the previous Duke go on a rampage around this time of year too and kill a bunch of people?”
What Rigda said was the standard opinion most people had about the Duke. Vine had thought the same before heading to the North. But once he actually got there, what he experienced felt… off, somehow—so much so that hearing her say that now felt stifling.
Still, it wasn’t something he could just blurt out. Vine didn’t know the Duke well either, and everything he had seen felt too grave to speak of lightly. Those without power were best off keeping their mouths shut. So Vine stuck to stating a plain, unarguable fact.
“If the Duke did sneak in to kill someone, there’s no one who could stop him anyway. Who could beat someone that strong?”
“Hooh…”
Rigda, more obsessed with the sword than Vine himself, perked up at that. Her hostility, built up by rumor, seemed to ease a little as a flurry of questions followed.
“How strong are we talking? Stronger than Prince Ressas?”
“His Highness is a rare genius, no doubt. But I don’t know… The Duke felt fundamentally different. I couldn’t even picture a way to stop him. The moment I saw him, it just felt hopeless.”
Every move he made reeked of experience. Vine had harmed his fair share of people in his time, but the Duke’s body bore the raw instinct of someone who’d survived countless blood-drenched battlefields. As Vine spoke, Rigda nodded in interest and added with admiration:
“Well, I guess you have to be that strong to guard the North. The North has never really suffered from the Nir’a, not even once. And they’ve got the longest winters in the kingdom, with those massive forests and all.”
