Back to the moment when Leon and Celistine had already reached the inn where they were staying for the night. Evening had settled over the Western Empire, and the dim lanterns outside cast soft amber light through the windows. Celistine wished they could return home early; unease tugged heavily at her chest. She hated lingering in Harold's territory, afraid of whatever scheme he might prepare next just to force her to side with the Three Kingdoms.
They couldn't travel any farther anyway. A massive landslide a few miles ahead had blocked the only route she used to avoid conflict. Every alternate path had been guarded or restricted by Harold's men, making an early return almost impossible.
Inside the tavern, Celistine sat with Leon and Criston as they ate their late meal. The place was bustling with noise — men trading stories, the smell of roasted meat drifting through the air, and merchants murmuring over their transactions. Yet their small table remained a pocket of relative peace.
Criston tore a piece of bread and spoke with his mouth half full."So, my lord… how exactly did you end up colliding with His Majesty, the King of the North?"
Leon gave a casual shrug, then grinned as he speared his steak with the tip of his fork."Simple," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting smugly. "The king himself asked me to protect his beloved daughter. He was afraid of what Harold might attempt again." He paused, casting a brief glance at Celistine. "And, I suppose, he had every right to be concerned."
Celistine's eyes widened slightly, disbelief colouring her face. Father trusted Leon that much?
"So you came up with this plan without telling me?" she asked, her voice cold, stiffening her posture. "My own father trusted you more than his own daughter?"
"Oh— easy, my lady, easy." Leon lifted both hands in front of him, almost panicked as he tried to calm her. "Let me explain first."
He scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking awkward."The reason King Henry didn't tell you… is because he knew you'd doubt me. You always assume I have some hidden price behind everything I do — and that I'm here to drag you into another war."
Celistine stared at him, momentarily taken aback. Her father's decision stung more than she expected. She barely knew Leon… and her trust was not something she gave easily — not anymore.
"So tell me," she said, lowering her brows and leaning slightly forward. "Is there a price for your help?"
"Yes," Leon answered immediately, a sly grin stretching across his lips.
Celistine narrowed her eyes. "And what is it?"
He leaned back in his chair, smirk deepening.
"A hand in marriage."
Criston choked so violently on his drink that he broke into a coughing fit.Celistine's whole body stiffened. Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding uncontrollably inside her chest. Marriage? Her breath caught as Leon stared straight into her violet eyes — intensely, almost devouring her with his gaze. The seriousness on his face only made her heart race faster.
"A-are you sure?" she managed to stutter, cheeks blazing crimson.
Leon's eyes twinkled. He leaned closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.Then he whispered—
"Joke ahahahaha."
He burst into loud laughter, slapping the table as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
Celistine's blush deepened until her ears felt hot. Embarrassment flooded through her so quickly she felt light-headed. Without thinking, she snapped her hand against Leon's back.
SLAP.
"Ouch!" Leon yelped, hunching forward.
"You idiot!" Celistine snapped, and in one swift motion she stood up and stormed toward the staircase. Her steps were sharp and heavy, each one carrying her irritation. Leon watched her go with a pouting lip, rubbing the spot where she had hit him, though amusement still lingered in his eyes.
Criston sat frozen, face blank — unsure whether to laugh or apologize for existing.
Leon raised a brow at him. "What?"
Criston exhaled slowly. "I think you made a mistake there, my lord… if you'll excuse me." He forced an awkward smile, stood up, and quickly left the tavern to check on the hundred knights accompanying Celistine in the Western Empire.
Left alone at the table, Leon tried — and failed — to stifle his laughter. Every time he teased Celistine, something inside him lit up. He didn't know why he found her reactions so amusing… or why her anger looked so endearing to him.
Meanwhile, Celistine leaned back against the door inside her room, trying to catch her breath. The chamber was dim, lit only by a sliver of moonlight slipping through the window. Her heart gave an odd skip as she remembered the seriousness in Leon's golden, lion-like eyes when he said "hand in marriage." She had almost believed him.
She pressed her hand to her chest.
Why am I angry? she wondered. She should be relieved it was only a joke — yet irritation prickled her skin.
Still confused by her own reaction, she pushed herself away from the door and headed to her closet to change into her nightdress, hoping sleep would clear the strange mix of embarrassment and annoyance swirling inside her.
******
In the Eastern Empire, Rehena and Barron had fled after their failed mission to recruit a herbalist who might aid the North. Rehena had been forced to return home empty-handed — a bitter but inevitable part of life. Meanwhile, one of Barron's shadows, Robert, together with Harith, had set off to investigate the small house Robert had mentioned, a building resembling a factory, hidden near the old cathedral. All Barron and Rehena could do now was wait, tense, for news of what his shadows might uncover.
The carriage rolled along a deserted road, surrounded by nothing but wild grass and distant trees. Not a single house stood in sight; the emptiness amplified the stillness, broken only by the soft clatter of wheels against cobblestones. Joshua, assigned as their coachman, guided the horses steadily, the morning air crisp and fragrant. Leaves spiralled gently in the breeze, and sunlight spilled warmly across the open road.
Despite the peaceful scene, a weight pressed heavily on Rehena's chest. The mission's failure, entrusted to her by Celistine, gnawed at her relentlessly. She clutched the fabric of her purple dress, her curls tumbling loosely down her back. Freckles dusted her cheeks, and her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears, stinging with the sting of rejection from Max, the second prince of the Eastern Empire.
Across from her, Barron observed quietly, noting the shadow of sorrow in her gaze. He drew in a deep breath, breaking the silence at last.
"Are you still worried about how Her Highness Celistine and His Highness Carlo might react, my lady?"
Rehena flinched slightly at his sudden, calm voice. She lifted her head to meet his steady, unreadable expression.
"Ah… I just don't know how to face them, Barron," she admitted softly, fingers tightening around her dress. "Have you ever experienced failure?" At twenty-three, she was younger than Barron, yet already burdened by responsibility and disappointment.
Barron inhaled slowly and allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile."Yes. I have experienced many failures throughout my life, my lady."
Rehena's eyes widened. It was difficult to imagine a man as steadfast and dignified as Barron having ever faltered.
"And… how did you handle them?" she asked, curiosity and a hint of hope in her voice.
"Sometimes, our failures become our greatest teachers," Barron said, his voice calm, deliberate, carrying weight. "No soul walks this world untouched by defeat. Every trial carries its own wisdom, and every fall leaves behind a quiet piece of knowledge."
Rehena felt a small spark of courage stir within her, as if his words were a hand gently resting on her shoulder, guiding her like an older brother offering counsel.
"Do you regret anything, Barron?" she asked, tilting her head, her brown eyes bright with curiosity.
Barron grunted, thoughtful. "Perhaps my deepest regret is that I never learned to discern who stood in truth and who hid behind lies."
"Like choosing between Celistine and Emperor Harold, am I right?" she ventured, the faintest trace of understanding in her voice.
"Indeed," Barron said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Through love, it transformed me utterly. I saw the North in all its wild, untamed beauty, yet none of it compared to the dazzling sight of the woman I love." His gaze softened, distant, lost in memories of Grace, the love of his life.
Rehena smiled gently. "You truly love her, I can tell, Barron," she said, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips.
Barron allowed the smallest of smiles in return. It was enough to ease some of the anxiety weighing on Rehena, though her thoughts still lingered on how Celistine and Carlo might react to her failure.
The carriage continued along the lonely road, the morning breeze brushing past them. Then, suddenly, it came to an abrupt halt. Rehena and Barron froze, exchanging puzzled glances.
"Stay here, my lady," Barron said in a low, measured voice, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he prepared for any danger. He stepped cautiously from the carriage.
Outside, Joshua stood before the horses, brow furrowed.
"Joshua? What is it?" Barron asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"There's an old woman… unconscious… lying in the middle of the road," Joshua replied, tension in his voice.
Barron's eyes widened as he looked where Joshua indicated. The woman had blonde hair and wore a long, green medieval-style gown trimmed with gold. She lay sprawled across the cobblestones, a large basket of plants and wood beside her. Alone, she seemed entirely vulnerable in the emptiness of the road, leaving Barron and Joshua uncertain of what to do.
"Barron, what's wrong?" Rehena called from the carriage, curiosity overcoming her nervousness. She stepped forward, eyes widening at the sight. Without hesitation, she instructed, "Carry her inside! I have medicine!"
Barron nodded, lifting the unconscious woman with careful precision. Rehena hurried to retrieve her medical kit, ready to tend to her and provide whatever aid she could.
As Barron and Rehena's carriage reached the edge of the remote forest, its path swallowed by tangled trees, they settled beside the unconscious old woman they had rescued. Baron spread a cloth on the ground, and he gently leaned the woman against the rough trunk of a nearby tree, her body still limp and without sense. Rehena crouched beside her, pressing a cool, damp cloth to the woman's forehead before helping her drink the medicine.
A few moments later, as the sun lowered behind the treetops, painting the forest in dim amber light, the old woman slowly opened her beige-coloured eyes. Her face twitched with discomfort; the heat earlier had left her head throbbing.
"Are you alright, old lady?" Rehena asked softly, settling beside her and offering a wooden cup filled with water. The woman blinked in confusion, studying Rehena as though trying to recall where she was. Her gaze drifted around until she spotted two men standing near the carriage — their silhouettes steady and watchful.
"Who are you?" the old woman murmured, her voice thin with exhaustion.
"Oh… my name is Rehena. We were on our way home when we found you unconscious by the roadside. We couldn't leave you there," Rehena explained gently. Although the woman's expression showed her confusion, she forced herself to calm down.
"Thank you, young lady. May I know who you are… and who those two gentlemen might be? And where do you come from?" the woman asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty.
"I am Rehena Judeya Reniad, daughter of Duke Renia," she replied with a polite nod. She lifted her hand and pointed towards Barron as the woman waited for the names. "That man over there — the one with silver hair and bronzed skin — is wearing a purple hooded cloak, His name is Barron Hebrew." As she spoke, she glanced at Barron, who was busy tightening something near the carriage wheel.
"And the young man in a brown leather tunic with matching trousers, a green scarf fastened with a brooch, and a sword at his side — he's our coachman, Joshua. He's quite young, but very capable." Rehena smiled kindly, hoping to ease the woman's doubts. The last thing she wanted was for their rescue to be mistaken for something sinister.
"And where are you from?" the woman asked again, leaning back against the tree trunk. Rehena returned her look with a light smile.
"We came from the North. We visited the Eastern Empire for an important matter, and now we're heading home," she answered.
The woman's brow tightened slightly, as though something in that answer unsettled her, but she hid her reaction well. Instead, she spoke with a firmer tone.
"And what matter brought you here?" she asked quietly.
"Actually, I serve as the Master of Lands and Resources of the North. We came seeking a herbalist who once served the former Queen of the East, but…" Rehena's expression dimmed, her shoulders dipping a little at the memory of Prince Max's rejection.
"What happened?" the woman pressed, her curiosity growing.
"Instead of meeting the former Queen, we met her son — the second prince. Unfortunately, he refused us," Rehena said with a small, awkward laugh, trying not to feel embarrassed before the woman.
"And why does the North seek the former Queen's herbalists? Is the North planning to use them for war?" the woman asked, her gaze suddenly sharp. Rehena's eyes flew wide, and she quickly raised her hands to dispel the misunderstanding.
"No, that isn't our intention," she replied at once.
"Then what is your purpose?" the woman asked, lifting an eyebrow at Rehena.
"Our university," Rehena said with quiet pride. "The North has opened a new academy where commoners may study three fields. We've already established political studies, medicine, and military training. We sought the late Queen's disciples only to help strengthen our course in herbal studies." Her warm brown eyes shone with sincerity, and something in her youthful, innocent face eased the woman's suspicion.
"But is the North planning to use the East's herbalists in war?" the woman asked once more, seeking reassurance.
Rehena took a steady breath. "The North already has its own healers. We only wished to learn the methods of the late Queen's herbal craft ourselves, so that when war breaks, we're prepared without relying on her people." She spoke with calm honesty, hoping her words would settle the woman's doubts.
The woman exhaled deeply and offered a faint smile."Very well. I believe you," she said, and Rehena's shoulders loosened in relief.
"May I ask your name?" Rehena asked, tilting her head slightly with curiosity.
"Well, I am—"
"My lady, I think we have a problem," Joshua interrupted urgently, his voice filled with concern. The old woman stopped mid-sentence, turning her head as Joshua approached.
"What is it?" Rehena asked, brushing off her dress as she rose. She walked towards Barron, who remained crouched beside the carriage wheel.
"Barron, what's wrong?" she asked. Barron rose from his knee, dusting his hands as he faced her.
"I fear the axle has snapped," he said grimly. Rehena's eyes widened in alarm.
"Is there any way to fix it?" she asked, her tone tight with worry. They needed to leave the Eastern Empire before the king returned; if he discovered northerners on his land, their situation would worsen — especially without spare horses.
"I'm afraid it can't be repaired unless we reach a village with a coachwright," Barron replied.
"Is there a nearby village?" Joshua asked, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.
"There is a near village with a coachwright," a voice said.
All three of them turned sharply. The old woman had risen from her seat, her posture now steadier as she looked at them. She placed one hand over her chest as the light breeze lifted her bright yellow hair, making it shimmer beneath the fading sunlight.
"Let me introduce myself," she said, lifting her chin with quiet dignity. "I am Roselia Hestirea Apondelia — the former Queen of the East, born to a family skilled in the craft of medicine."
The three froze, their eyes widening in astonishment. Rehena's heart skipped a beat. Of all the people they could have helped, fate had brought them to the late Queen of the East herself.
And just like that, Rehena realised her journey was far from over — her mission had only begun.