A few days prior,
“What’s the meaning of this?!”
The roar cracked across the vast royal hall like thunder striking a mountain peak.
Kahen Aurelyth—father of Cassion and King of the Aurelyth Kingdom—glared down from his throne at Alena, who had returned with his son battered and humiliated.
He was a tall, muscular, battle-worn king with dark red tousled hair and crimson eyes that burned like embers buried beneath ash. He sat confidently upon an ornate throne carved from black stone and gilded with gold veins that twisted like captured lightning.
Before him stretched a towering royal hall—obsidian pillars, black banners embroidered with Aurelyth’s blazing sigil, and dim golden chandeliers casting a molten glow across the room.
Cassion and Alena knelt in the center of the hall, one knee to the floor, hands resting formally. Cassion’s armor bore fresh dents, dried blood darkening the edge of his sleeve.
“Forgive me, my lord. I was unable to protect Cassion.” Alena’s voice was steady, though shame lingered beneath her tone.
While she apologized, Cassion’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.
What happened that day? Did I really get knocked out by a commoner? His jaw tightened. That has to be a lie! Even if it’s not… it was a sneak attack.
He ground his teeth, trying to reshape the truth until it became easier to swallow.
The prince of Aurelyth—clad in High Relic-grade equipment, trained by elite knights, and raised beneath priests’ blessings—had been defeated by someone who did not even emit an aura. His pride simply could not accept it.
“Alena,” came a calmer voice, “explain what happened carefully.”
It was Demor Aurelyth, the Crown Prince.
Unlike his father and younger brother, Demor’s build was leaner and less heavy—yet the air around him carried immense weight, as if gravity itself bent to his presence. If Cassion was fire, Demor was a silent furnace.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Receiving the command, Alena began her explanation of what had occurred in Eryndor.
…
“Vionette? That Vionette?” Kahen’s brows furrowed in deep confusion.
The Vionette I knew was nothing like that… she was just a quiet princess who obeyed her mother’s commands and rarely spoke beyond necessity, Demor thought, staring down at his kneeling brother. She isn't even widely known among other kingdoms because of it.
“And… another man?” Demor muttered under his breath.
Even he could render Cassion unconscious with ease, but he had never heard of anyone in Crimvane possessing that level of strength—even if Alena claimed the stranger was still beneath his own caliber.
Could he be a hired mercenary?
“Did you ask for his name?” Demor’s red eyes settled on Alena.
“I’m afraid not, Your Highness.”
“A nameless fool dares to harm my son?!” Kahen’s fist slammed against his armrest, veins rising along his forearm like coiled serpents. “This will not be tolerated!”
“Father,” Cassion interjected quickly, lifting his head. “It was merely a sneak attack. She didn’t even have any knights with her, which means they’ve fallen that low.” A smile spread across his face. “We will return that humiliation tenfold when we crush Crimvane itself.”
Kahen Aurelyth sought dominance; Cassion Aurelyth sought revenge. The prince's words were oil poured directly onto a flame.
The seed Vionette had planted was beginning to sprout.
Clang—Clang.
Metallic boots echoed against the marble, and a knight rushed forward, kneeling beside Alena.
“Sire! Word has just arrived that Eryndor has formed an alliance with Crimvane.”
Silence swallowed the hall, but only for a second before Kahen’s mouth curved upward into a wide grin.
“Hahahah! So they finally made their move!” He leaned back on his throne, eyes lifting toward the vaulted ceiling as if listening to fate chuckle in response. “Demor, are our knights sent to the eastern mountain passes prepared?”
“Yes, Father.” Demor stepped forward slightly. “All standard units are equipped with Low Relic-grade armor, commanders carry Mid Relic-grade weapons, and the mages are stocked with High-class potions and Low Relic-grade gear.”
“Furthermore, Your Majesty,” Alena added just as Demor finished, “according to our spy in Crimvane, a single soldier of ours can easily take on three of theirs.”
“What about the High Priests from the church?” Kahen asked, casting a side glance at Demor.
“They have yet to arrive, Father,” Demor replied, his expression remaining neutral.
“Well… they don’t matter much anyway. What about our numbers?”
Demor smirked, shaking his head. “At least twice theirs.”
Hearing that, Kahen closed his eyes, satisfaction settling across his features like a monarch already watching victory unfold. He leaned forward, spreading his hands wide as though blessing a grand sacrifice.
“Then it is decided! We were merely waiting for Eryndor to choose a side! No further preparation is needed!” His grin widened into something savage. “I declare war on Crimvane—The Cursed Kingdom.”
You dare disrespect my family by striking my son, Vionette Crimvane? Kahen gritted his teeth. I will conquer your kingdom and make you a sex slave for our kingdom!
Eryndor was a mercenary kingdom; even if they sided with Crimvane, it made little difference. In Aurelyth’s eyes, loyalty bought with coin rarely altered the tide of destiny. And according to their spy, Crimvane possessed almost no mages outside the royal inner circle, had no priests, and suffered from inferior equipment.
To Aurelyth, victory was already written in stone. So why would they wait any longer?
***
Present,
“What… do you mean, Your Majesty?”
“…A war?!”
Shock and panic rippled across the council chamber, every face betraying disbelief—except for Noa, Vionette, and…
Noticing the one person who hadn't reacted with shock, Vionette covered her mouth. Slowly, her lips curled upward, her eyes widening with predatory delight.
It was not the smile of a princess. It was the thrill of a hunter who had located a missing piece of the puzzle.
Found you!
Noa turned toward her and caught her expression instantly. A quiet smirk mirrored her satisfaction.
So she found him.
Deciding there was little point in listening to waves of panic any longer, Noa leaned forward, deactivating his skill to release his suppressed aura.
[Presence Override]
“Okay, that’s enough. Everyone sit down and shut the fuck up.”
The nobles froze as a creeping chill crawled up their spines, their lips parting as cold sweat broke out across their foreheads. It was not a request; it was a command delivered with certainty.
Valric’s fingers tightened subtly around the edge of the table. He knew far better than to challenge that presence.
Are we really going to war? Kaelen’s hand instinctively brushed against the hilt of his sword.
Slowly, the dukes settled back into their seats. They were unsure how to process the sudden order, but survival instincts took priority over pride.
“Lucien,” Noa called out, looking across the table.
“Yes, my lord?” Lucien stood immediately, his crimson eyes glowing with ambition.
While others trembled at the mention of war, Lucien did not. That was the ‘faith’ Vionette had carved into him.
Noa pointed at him with a playful wink. “Head to Eryndor and deliver a message directly to their king. You’re being given full authority.” He leaned forward slightly, his purple irises gleaming against his black sclera. “Tell him: ‘Do not deploy an army or attempt to intervene. We will fight Aurelyth on our own, so just step aside and watch the show.’ Say it respectfully, but don’t hold back if necessary.”
“Understood. Then, please excuse me.” Lucien bowed formally to both Noa and Vionette, ignoring the stunned dukes as he turned to leave.
“Oh, Lucien, one more thing,” Vionette added, causing him to pause mid-step. “Tell Nymira to finish our custom orders before the war begins. Take Kaelen with you and make the same request for yourselves. And place an additional order as well—we’ll be needing it.”
Hearing his name, Kaelen stood up at once. “Excuse me as well, Lady Vionette.”
Lucien nodded to Vionette, and the two walked out together. The doors clicked shut behind them, restoring silence to the chamber.
What are these two thinking? Rejecting Eryndor’s assistance… Korneas thought, staring at Vionette.
Are we going to survive this? Valric wondered, fear creeping like frost along his spine.
“Alright then,” Noa turned back toward the dukes, raising his hand. “Each of you will deploy exactly 100 of your best knights and 30 mages to Eryndor, where the battle will most likely take place. That is all. You’re dismissed.”
He knew little of politics, but war strategies from countless stories were etched into his mind. He didn’t know what rank Aurelyth’s gear possessed—he didn’t even know items had ranks—but what he did know was this: they had to win overwhelmingly.
If Vionette wanted the nobles to believe in her, then victory had to belong to Crimvane alone. So, they had rejected Eryndor’s help for that reason. And both of them refused to let unnecessary soldiers die. Thus, only the elite—only the best 500 across the dukedoms—were selected.
Frozen in silence, the dukes rose one by one, bowed to Vionette, and began exiting the room.
“Wait,” Vionette’s voice cut through their departure. “Carvan, you stay. I have an important task for you. Gather all of your escort knights as well.”
Carvan and the others froze mid-step. The three dukes exchanged lingering glances before leaving Carvan behind, doubts heavy in their minds.
“…By your will.”
Refusal was not an option—especially with Noa seated here—so Carvan signaled to his knight outside the door to bring in the knights who had accompanied him to the capital.
…
Twenty knights stood in a perimeter around the edges of the room, their armor clinking nervously. Even Kaelen, once a captain, hadn’t seen Vionette’s face before this recent shift. The pressure was natural.
Behind Noa’s seat stood Duke Carvan.
Now, only Vionette, Noa, Rose, and Carvan with his personal knights remained inside the chamber.
What is happening? Did I offend Her Majesty earlier? Carvan’s thoughts raced. Is this punishment?
The silence thickened until it felt louder than war drums.
“Carvan Therion.” Vionette stood up, taking hold of Crimson Night, which was leaning against her chair.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty?” Hearing his full name sent a subtle shiver through his spine. Even his knights flinched slightly.
“Did anything unusual occur near Therion’s borders over the last few days?” she asked, slowly pacing around the perimeter.
“I’m afraid so.” His jaw tightened as he nodded. “There was a human trafficking operation near the Highfen-Therion border. The royal knights sent a few days ago resolved the matter.”
“Good, good. So you are informed.” She cast a side-glance at him, her eyes glinting. “That makes this much easier.”
She walked down the row of knights, her gaze drifting downward over their gear before sweeping back up. The knights instinctively straightened as she drew near.
“If the reports are true, one hideout was near Blackmoor, two were toward Therion, and two sat near the borders separating the capital and Highfen.” She stopped walking, glancing over her shoulder at him. “So from the looks of it, every incident centered around Highfen. It seems… like someone was sowing chaos throughout the kingdom, doesn't it?”
“Y-yes. It appears to be an attempt to cause internal strife.” Carvan stared into those crimson eyes.
She’s completely different. Nothing like the princess she used to be. He gulped.
Vionette returned to her chair, leaning forward with her hands resting atop the backrest.
“Gemsh’s dukedom in the east does not share a border with Highfen, and zero incidents occurred there—which makes him the second prime suspect because his territory is too clean.” She offered a slight smile, tilting her head. “But that’s obvious, don’t you think? Almost as if someone wanted us to suspect the two of them.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Noa chimed in, folding his arms with a nod, though a tiny drop of sweat formed on his temple.
I have no idea where she’s going with this, but fuck it—let’s just roll with it.
“It’s… that obvious…?” Carvan muttered under his breath.
“Now, that leaves us with only Blackmoor and Therion,” Vionette continued, slowly closing the distance between them. “And the best part is, Blackmoor is already under my control through Lucien’s loyalty.”
Snap!
Noa snapped his fingers, pointing at Carvan like an arrow loosed from a bow. “Which means the only remaining suspect is Therion—this guy’s dukedom.”
“Yes.” Vionette nodded.
Carvan’s face drained of color as she stepped closer. “N-no! Y-Your Majesty, this… this is a misunderstanding!”
Ignoring his plea, she continued coldly, “And… when I announced the war just now, you were the only person in this room who didn't look surprised.”
“…That’s because—”
Vionette stepped into his space, unsheathing her blade in one fluid motion and resting the cold iron against the side of Carvan’s neck. The surrounding knights flinched, but none dared to draw their weapons as royalty stood above nobility.
“So tell me,” Vionette’s eyes narrowed intensely. “Did you betray us, or not?”
Carvan’s hands trembled, his voice breaking. “N-no, Your Majesty! This… this is a mistake!”
Vionette ignored his panic, slowly drawing the steel back. Carvan squeezed his eyes shut at the rasp of metal. Then—
Thud…
“Hahaha~ Don’t worry, I knew you didn’t~” She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder with a smile. Carvan snapped his eyes open in utter bewilderment. “I was just double-checking just in case.”
“W-what—?! Y-Your Majesty…?” He stumbled back a few paces, breathing fast.
“I figured out the plot when I heard Kaelen’s report earlier today, and your lack of surprise just confirmed it.” She tapped the flat side of her blade against her head a few times with a smirk. “But what if… just what if… the enemy wanted us to think like that?”
“Ah-hah,” Noa nodded along with a grin.
Whaaaat?! he screamed internally.
“So tell me, Carvan Therion,” her crimson eyes locked back onto his dark ones. “Who told you about the war beforehand? Who gave you that little hint?”
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